THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


Stalky  &  Co. 


"  '  There  was  a  bit  of  scrimmage.'  " 


(Seepage 


Stalky  &  Co. 


By  Rudyard   Kipling 


Author  of  "  Plain  Tales  from  the 
Hills,"  "The  Seven 
Seas,"  "The  Jungle 
Books,"  "  The  Day's 
Work,"  etc. 


GARDEN  CITY        NEW  YORK 

DOUBLEDAY,  PAGE  &  COMPANY 

1919 


Copyright,  1897,  1898,  1899, 
BY  RUDYARD  KIPLING. 


TW3 


S7S 


TO 

CORMELL  PRICE 

Head-Master,  United  Services  College, 
Westward  Ho,  Bideford,  North  Devon,  1874-1884 


5000900 


*Let  us  now  praise  famous  m«n" — 

Men  of  little  showing — 
For  their  work  continueth, 
And  their  work  continueth^ 

Greater  than  their  knowing. 

Western  wind  and  open  surge 
Tore  us  from  our  mothers  ; 
Flung  us  on  a  naked  shore 
(Twelve  bleak  houses  by  the  shore  I 
Seven  summers  by  tLe  shore  ! ) 
'Mid  two  hundred  brothers. 

There  we  met  with  famous  men 

Set  in  office  o'er  us. 
And  they  beat  on  us  with  rods — 
Faithfully  with  many  rods — 
Daily  beat  us  on  writh  rods — 

For  the  love  they  bore  us  ! 

Out  of  Egypt  unto  Troy — 

Over  Himalaya — 

Far  and  sure  our  bands  have  gone— 
Hy — Brasil  or  Babylon, 
Islands  of  the  Southern  Run, 

And  cities  of  Cathaia  ! 


And  we  all  praise  famous  men — 

Ancients  of  the  College ; 
For  they  taught  us  common  sense — 
Tried  to  teach  us  common  sense — 
Truth  and  God's  Own  Common  Sense 

Which  is  more  than  knowledge  1 

Each  degree  of  Latitude 

Strung  about  Creation 
Seeth  one  (or  more)  of  us, 
(Of  one  muster  all  of  us — 
Of  one  master  all  of  us — ) 

Keen  in  his  vocation. 

This  we  learned  from  famous  men 

Knowing  not  its  uses 
When  they  showed  in  daily  work 
Man  must  finish  off  his  work — 
Right  or  wrong,  his  daily  work — 

And  without  excuses. 

Servants  of  the  staff  and  chain, 
Mine  and  fuse  and  grapnel — 

Some  before  the  face  of  Kings, 

Stand  before  the  face  of  Kings; 

Bearing  gifts  to  divers  Kings-^ 
Gifts  of  Case  and  Shrapnel. 

This  we  learned  from  famous  men 

Teaching  in  our  borders. 
Who  declared  it  was  best, 
Safest,  easiest  and  best — 
Expeditious,  wise  and  best — 

To  obey  your  orders. 

Some  beneath  the  further  stars 

Bear  the  greater  burden. 
Set  to  serve  the  lands  they  rule, 
(Save  he  serve  no  man  may  rule) 
Serve  and  love  the  lands  theyrule; 

Seeking  praise  nor  guerdon. 


This  we  learned  from  famous  men 

Knowing  not  we  learned  it. 
Only,  as  the  years  went  by — 
Lonely,  as  the  years  went  by — 
Far  from  help  as  years  went  by 
Plainer  we  discerned  it. 

Wherefore  praise  we  famous  men 
From  whose  bays  we  borrow — v 
They  that  put  aside  Today — 
All  the  joys  of  their  Today — 
And  with  toil  of  their  Today 
Bought  for  us  Tomorrow  ! 

Bless  and  praise  we  famous  men—' 

Men  of  little  showing  ! 
For  their  work  continueth 
And  their  work  continueth 
Broad  and  deep  continueth 

Great  beyond  their  knowing! 

Copyright,  1899,  by  Rudyard  Kipling. 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

I.   IN  AMBUSH          .....          i 
II.   SLAVES  OF  THE  LAMP — PART  I.    .         .44 

III.  AN  UNSAVORY  INTERLUDE    ...        74 

IV.  THE  IMPRESSIONISTS     .         .         .         .115 
V.   THE  MORAL  REFORMERS      .          .          .      149 

VI.  A  LITTLE  PREP.  .  .  .  .182 

VII.  THE  FLAG  OF  THEIR  COUNTRY  .  .215 
VIII.  THE  LAST  TERM  ....  249 

IX.  SLAVES  OF  THE  LAMP — PART  II.  .     281 


ILLUSTRATIONS 
u  c  There  was  a  bit  of  scrimmage  '    '   .      .      Frontispiece 


FACING   PACK 


' '  The  keeper    .    .    .    fired  both  barrels  in  their 

direction  " 10 

<{  Prout's    juniors    hurled    themselves    into    the 

war" 98 

"  '  Rescue  Kings !    Kings!    Kings!'         .      .      .  124 

"  The  bleatin'  of  the  kid  excites  the  tiger"   .      .  154 

u  Are  all  parents  incurably  mad  ?  "       .      .      .      .  178 

"  Propped  up  on   one  arm,  blazing  away  with  a 

revolver" 204 

"  The  luckless  prefect  fled  " 260 


"IN    AMBUSH." 

IN  summer  all  right-minded  boys  built  huts  in  the 
furze-hill  behind  the  College — little  lairs  whittled 
out  of  the  heart  of  the  prickly  bushes,  full  of  stumps, 
odd  root-ends,  and  spikes,  but,  since  they  were 
strictly  forbidden,  palaces  of  delight.  And  for  the 
fifth  summer  in  succession,  Stalky,  McTurk,  and 
Beetle  (this  was  before  they  reached  the  dignity  of 
a  study)  had  built  like  beavers  a  place  of  retreat  and 
meditation,  where  they  smoked. 

Now,  there  was  nothing  in  their  characters  as 
known  to  Mr.  Prout,  their  house-master,  at 
all  commanding  respect ;  nor  did  Foxy,  the  subtle 
red-haired  school  Sergeant,  trust  them.  His  busi- 
ness was  to  wear  tennis-shoes,  carry  binoculars, 
and  swoop  hawklike  upon  evil  boys.  Had  he 
taken  the  field  alone,  that  hut  would  have  been 
raided,  for  Foxy  knew  the  manners  of  his  quarry  ; 
but  Providence  moved  Mr.  Prout,  whose  school- 
name,  derived  from  the  size  of  his  feet,  was  Hoofer, 
to  investigate  on  his  own  account;  and  it  was  the 
cautious  Stalky  who  found  the  track  of  his  pugs  on 

[1] 


STALKY    &    CO. 

the  very  floor  of  their  lair  one  peaceful  afternoon 
when  Stalky  would  fain  have  forgotten  Prout  and 
his  works  in  a  volume  of  Surtees  and  a  new  briar- 
wood  pipe.  Crusoe,  at  sight  of  the  footprint,  did 
not  act  more  swiftly  than  Stalky.  He  removed  the 
pipes,  swept  up  all  loose  match-ends,  and  departed 
to  warn  Beetle  and  McTurk. 

But  it  was  characteristic  of  the  boy  that  he  did 
not  approach  his  allies  till  he  had  met  and  con- 
ferred with  little  Hartopp,  President  of  the  Nat- 
ural History  Society,  an  institution  which  Stalky 
held  in  contempt.  Hartopp  was  more  than  sur- 
prised when  the  boy  meekly,  as  he  knew  how, 
begged  to  propose  himself,  Beetle,  and  McTurk  as 
candidates  ;  confessed  to  a  long-smothered  inter- 
est in  first- flowerings,  early  butterflies,  and  new 
arrivals,  and  volunteered,  if  Mr.  Hartopp  saw 
fit,  to  enter  on  the  new  life  at  once.  Being  a 
master,  Hartopp  was  suspicious ;  but  he  was 
also  an  enthusiast,  and  his  gentle  little  soul  had 
been  galled  by  chance-heard  remarks  from  the 
three,  and  specially  Beetle.  So  he  was  gracious 
to  that  repentant  sinner,  and  entered  the  three 
names  in  his  book. 

Then,  and  not  till  then,  did  Stalky  seek  Beetle 
and  McTurk  in  their  house  form-room.  They  were 
stowing  away  books  for  a  quiet  afternoon  in  the 
furze,  which  they  called  the  "  wuzzy." 


'  IN   AMBUSH." 

"All  up,"  said  Stalky,  serenely.  "I  spotted 
Heffy 's  fairy  feet  round  our  hut  after  dinner. 
'Blessing  they're  so  big." 

"Con-found!  Did  you  hide  our  pipes?"  said 
Beetle. 

"  Oh,  no.  Left  'em  in  the  middle  of  the  hut,  of 
course.  What  a  blind  ass  you  are,  Beetle  !  D'you 
think  nobody  thinks  but  yourself?  Well,  we 
can't  use  the  hut  any  more.  Hoofer  will  be 
watchin'  it." 

"  '  Bother  !  Likewise  blow  ! '  '  said  McTurk 
thoughtfully,  unpacking  the  volumes  with  which  his 
chest  was  cased.  The  boys  carried  their  libraries 
between  their  belt  and  their  collar.  "Nice  job  ! 
This  means  we're  under  suspicion  for  the  rest  of 
the  term. ' ' 

"Why?  All  that  Heffy  has  found  is  a  hut. 
He  and  Foxy  will  watch  it.  It's  nothing  to  do 
with  us  ;  only  we  mustn't  be  seen  that  way  for 
a  bit." 

"  Yes,  and  where  else  are  we  to  go  ?  "  said  Beetle. 
"You  chose  that  place,  too — an' — an'  I  wanted  to 
read  this  afternoon." 

Stalky  sat  on  a  desk  drumming  his  heels  on  the 
form. 

"  You're  a  despondin'  brute,  Beetle.  Sometimes 
I  think  I  shall  have  to  drop  you  altogether.  Did 
you  ever  know  your  Uncle  Stalky  forget  you  yet? 

[3] 


STALKY   &   CO. 

His  rebus  infectis — after  I'd  seen  Heffy's  man-tracks 
marchin'  round  our  hut,  I  found  little  Hartopp — 
destricto  ense — wavin'  a  butterfly-net.  I  conciliated 
Hartopp.  'Told  him  that  you'd  read  papers  to  the 
Bug-hunters  if  he'd  let  you  join,  Beetle.  'Told  him 
you  liked  butterflies,  Turkey.  Anyhow,  I  soothed 
the  Hartoffles,  and  we're  Bug-hunters  now." 

"  What's  the  good  of  that  ?  "  said  Beetle. 

"  Oh,  Turkey,  kick  him!  " 

In  the  interests  of  science  bounds  were  largely 
relaxed  for  the  members  of  the  Natural  History 
Society.  They  could  wander,  if  they  kept  clear  of 
all  houses,  practically  where  they  chose  ;  Mr.  Har- 
topp holding  himself  responsible  for  their  good  con- 
duct. 

Beetle  began  to  see  this  as  McTurk  began  the 
kicking. 

"I'm  an  ass,  Stalky!"  he  said,  guarding  the 
afflicted  part.  "  Pax,  Turkey.  I'm  an  ass." 

"  Don't  stop,  Turkey.  Isn't  your  Uncle  Stalky 
a  great  man?" 

"  Great  man,"  said  Beetle. 

"All  the  same  bug-huntin's  a  filthy  business," 
said  McTurk.  "  How  the  deuce  does  one  begin  ?  " 

"This  way,"  said  Stalky,  turning  to  some  fags' 
lockers  behind  him.  "  Fags  are  dabs  at  Natural 
History.  Here's  young  Braybrooke's  botany-case. ' ' 
He  flung  out  a  tangle  of  decayed  roots  and  adjusted 


"  IN   AMBUSH. " 

the  slide.  "  'Gives  one  no  end  of  a  prof essional  air, 
I  think.  Here's  Clay  Minor's  geological  hammer. 
Beetle  can  carry  that.  Turkey,  you'd  better  covet 
a  butterfly-net  from  somewhere. ' ' 

"I'm  blowed  if  I  do,"  said  McTurk,  simply, 
with  imniense  feeling.  "  Beetle,  give  me  the 
hammer. ' ' 

"All  right,  /'m  not  proud.  Chuck  us  down 
that  net  on  top  of  the  lockers,  Stalky." 

"That's  all  right.  It's  a  collapsible  jamboree, 
too.  Beastly  luxurious  dogs  these  fags  are.  Built 
like  a  fishin'-rod.  'Pon  my  sainted  Sam,  but  we 
look  the  complete  Bug-hunters  !  Now,  listen  to 
your  Uncle  Stalky!  We're  goin'  along  the  cliffs 
after  butterflies.  Yery  few  chaps  come  there. 
We're  goin'  to  leg  it,  too.  You'd  better  leave 
your  book  behind." 

"Not  much!"  said  Beetle,  firmly.  "I'm  not 
goin'  to  be  done  out  of  my  fun  for  a  lot  of  filthy 
butterflies." 

"  Then  you'll  sweat  horrid.  You'd  better  carry 
my  Jorrocks.  'Twon't  make  you  any  hotter." 

They  all  sweated ;  for  Stalky  led  them  at  a  smart 
trot  west  away  along  the  cliffs  under  the  furze-hills, 
crossing  combe  after  gorzy  combe.  They  took  no 
heed  to  flying  rabbits  or  fluttering  fritillaries,  and 
all  that  Turkey  said  of  geology  was  utterly  un- 
quotable. 


STALKY   &    CO. 

"  Are  we  going  to  Clovelly  ?  "  he  puffed  at  last, 
and  they  flung  themselves  down  on  the  short, 
springy  turf  between  the*  drone  of  the  sea  below 
and  the  light  summer  wind  among  the  inland  trees. 
They  were  looking  into  a  combe  half  full  of  old, 
high  furze  in  gay  bloom  that  ran  up  to  a  fringe  of 
brambles  and  a  dense  wood  of  mixed  timber  and 
hollies.  It  was  as  though  one-half  the  combe  were 
filled  with  golden  fire  to  the  cliff's  edge.  The  side 
nearest  to  them  was  open  grass,  and  fairly  bristled 
with  notice-boards. 

"  Fee-rocious  old  cove,  this,"  said  Stalky,  reading 
the  nearest.  "  '  Prosecuted  with  the  utmost  rigour  of 
the  law.  G.  M.  Dabney,  Col.,  J.P.J  an'  all  the  rest 
of  it.  'Don't  seem  to  me  that  any  chap  in  his 
senses  would  trespass  here,  does  it?  " 

"  You've  got  to  prove  damage  'fore  you  can' 
prosecute  for  anything!  'Can't  prosecute  for  tres- 
pass," said  McTurk,  whose  father  held  many  acres 
in  Ireland.  « <  That's  all  rot ! ' ' 

"  Glad  of  that,  'cause  this  looks  like  what  we 
wanted.  Not  straight  across,  Beetle,  you  blind 
lunatic!  Anyone  could  spot  us  half  a  mile  off. 
This  way  ;  and  furl  up  your  beastly  butterfly- 
net." 

Beetle  disconnected  the  ring,  thrust  the  net  into  a 
pocket,  shut  up  the  handle  to  a  two-foot  stave,  and 
slid  the  cane-ring  round  his  waist.  Stalky  led  in- 

16] 


"  IN   AMBUSH.'1 

land  to  the  wood,  which  was,  perhaps,  a  quarter  of 
a  mile  from  the  sea,  and  reached  the  fringe  of  tho 
brambles. 

"Now  we  can  get  straight  down  through  the 
furze,  and  never  show  up  at  all, ' '  said  the  tactician. 
' '  Beetle,  go  ahead  and  explore.  Snf !  Snf !  Beastly 
stink  of  fox  somewhere !  ' ' 

On  all  fours,  save  when  he  clung  to  his  spectacles, 
Beetle  wormed  into  the  gorse,  and  presently  an- 
nounced between  grunts  of  pain  that  he  had  found 
a  very  fair  fox-track.  This  was  well  for  Beetle, 
since  Stalky  pinched  him  a  tergo.  Down  that  tun- 
nel they  crawled.  It  was  evidently  a  highway  for 
the  inhabitants  of  the  combe  ;  and,  to  their  inex- 
pressible joy,  ended,  at  the  very  edge  of  the  cliff,  in 
a  few  square  feet  of  dry  turf  walled  and  roofed  with 
impenetrable  gorse. 

"By  gum!  There  isn't  a  single  thing  to  do  ex- 
cept lie  down,"  said  Stalky,  returning  a  knife  to  his 
pocket.  "  Look  here  !  " 

He  parted  the  tough  stems  before  him,  and  it  was 
as  a  window  opened  on  a  far  view  of  Lundy,  and  the 
deep  sea  sluggishly  nosing  the  pebbles  a  couple  of 
hundred  feet  below.  They  could  hear  young  jack- 
daws squawking  on  the  ledges,  the  hiss  and  jabber 
of  a  nest  of  hawks  somewhere  out  of  sight;  and, 
with  great  deliberation,  Stalky  spat  on  to  the  back 
of  a  young  rabbit  sunning  himself  far  down  where 


STALKY    &    CO. 

only  a  cliff-rabbit  could  have  found  foot-hold.  Great 
gray  and  black  gulls  screamed  against  the  jackdaws ; 
the  heavy-scented  acres  of  bloom  round  them  were 
alive  with  low-nesting  birds,  singing  or  silent  as  the 
shadow  of  the  wheeling  hawks  passed  and  returned; 
and  on  the  naked  turf  across  the  combe  rabbits 
thumped  and  frolicked. 

"Whew!  What  a  place!  Talk  of  natural  his- 
tory; this  is  it,"  said  Stalky,  filling  himself  a  pipe. 
"Isn't  it  scrumptious?  Good  old  sea!"  He  spat 
again  approvingly,  and  was  silent. 

McTurk  and  Beetle  had  taken  out  their  books  and 
were  lying  on  their  stomachs,  chin  in  hand.  The 
sea  snored  and  gurgled ;  the  birds,  scattered  for  the 
moment  by  these  new  animals,  returned  to  their 
businesses,  and  the  boys  read  on  in  the  rich,  warm, 
sleepy  silence. 

"Hullo,  here's  a  keeper,"  said  Stalky,  shutting 
"  Handley  Cross"  cautiously,  and  peering  through 
the  jungle.  A  man  with  a  gun  appeared  on  the 
sky-line  to  the  east.  "Confound  him,  he's  going 
to  sit  down. ' ' 

"  He'd  swear  we  were  poachin',  too,"  said  Beetle. 
"What's  the  good  of  pheasants'  eggs?  They're 
always  addled,  too." 

"Might  as  well  get  up  to  the  wood,  /think," 
said  Stalky.  "  We  don't  want  G.  M.  Dabney,  Col., 
J.P.,  to  be  bothered  about  us  so  soon.  Up  the 

[8] 


«  IN   AMBUSH." 

wuzzy  and  keep  quiet !  He  may  have  followed  us, 
you  know." 

Beetle  was  already  far  up  the  tunnel.  They 
heard  him  gasp  indescribably :  there  was  the  crash 
of  a  heavy  body  leaping  through  the  furze. 

"  Aie  !  yeou  little  red  rascal.  I  see  yeou  !"  The 
keeper  threw  the  gun  to  his  shoulder,  and  fired 
both  barrels  in  their  direction.  The  pellets  dusted 
the  dry  stems  round  them  as  a  big  fox  plunged  be* 
tween  Stalky 's  legs,  and  ran  over  the  cliff -edge. 

They  said  nothing  till  they  reached  the  wood, 
torn,  dishevelled,  hot,  but  unseen. 

"Narrow  squeak,"  said  Stalky.  "I'll  swear 
some  of  the  pellets  went  through  my  hair. ' ' 

"  Did  you  see  him  ?  "  said  Beetle.  "  I  almost  put 
my  hand  on  him.  Wasn't  he  a  wopper  !  Didn't 
he  stink  !  Hullo,  Turkey,  what's  the  matter  ?  Are 
you  hit?" 

McTurk's  lean  face  had  turned  pearly  white  ;  his 
mouth,  generally  half  open,  was  tight  shut,  and  his 
eyes  blazed.  They  had  never  seen  him  like  this  save 
once  in  a  sad  time  of  civil  war. 

"  Do  you  know  that  that  was  just  as  bad  as  mur- 
der?" he  said,  in  a  grating  voice,  as  he  brushed 
prickles  from  his  head. 

"  Well,  he  didn't  hit  us,"  said  Stalky.  " I  think 
it  was  rather  a  lark.  Here,  where  are  you  going  ?  " 

"  I'm  going  up  to  the  house,  if  there  is  one,"  said 
[9] 


STALKY   &   CO. 

McTurk,  pushing  through  the  hollies.  "I  am  go- 
ing to  tell  this  Colonel  Dabney." 

"Are  you  crazy?  He'll  swear  it  served  us  jolly 
well  right.  He'll  report  us.  It'll  be  a  public 
lickin'.  Oh,  Turkey,  don't  be  an  ass!  Think  of 
us!" 

"You  fool!"  said  McTurk,  turning  savagely. 
"D'you  suppose  I'm  thinkin'  of  us?  It's  the 
keeper." 

"He's  cracked,"  said  Beetle,  miserably,  as  they 
followed.  Indeed,  this  was  a  new  Turkey — a 
haughty,  angular,  nose-lifted  Turkey — whom  they 
accompanied  through  a  shrubbery  on  to  a  lawn, 
where  a  white-whiskered  old  gentleman  with  a  cleek 
was  alternately  putting  and  blaspheming  vigor- 
ously. 

"Are  you  Colonel  Dabney?"  McTurk  began  in 
this  new  creaking  voice  of  his. 

"  I — I  am,  and — "  his  eyes  traveled  up  and  down 
the  boy — "who — what  the  devil  d'you  want? 
Ye've  been  disturbing  my  pheasants.  Don't  at- 
tempt to  deny  it.  Ye  needn't  laugh  at  it."  (Mc- 
Turk's  not  too  lovely  features  had  twisted  them- 
selves into  a  horrible  sneer  at  the  word  pheasant.) 
"You've  been  birds' -nesting.  You  needn't  hide 
your  hat.  I  can  see  that  you  belong  to  the  College. 
Don't  attempt  to  deny  it.  Ye  do  !  Your  name 
and  number  at  once,  sir.  Ye  want  to  speak  to  me 

[10] 


The  keeper   ,    ,    ,    fired  both  barrels  in  their  direction. 


"  IN   AMBUSH. " 

— Eh?  You  saw  my  notice-boards?  Must  have. 
Don't  attempt  to  deny  it.  Te  did  !  Damnable,  oh 
damnable  ! " 

He  choked  with  emotion.  McTurk's  heel  tapped 
the  lawn  and  he  stuttered  a  little — two  sure  signs 
that  he  was  losing  his  temper.  But  why  should  he, 
the  offender,  be  angry  ? 

"Lo-look  here,  sir.  Do — do  you  shoot  foxes? 
Because,  if  you  don't,  your  keeper  does.  "We've 
seen  him  !  I  do-don't  care  what  you  call  us — but 
it's  an  awful  thing.  It's  the  ruin  of  good  feelin' 
among  neighbors.  A  ma-man  ought  to  say  once 
and  for  all  how  he  stands  about  preservin'.  It's 
worse  than  murder,  because  there's  no  legal  rem- 
edy." McTurk  was  quoting  confusedly  from  his 
father,  while  the  old  gentleman  made  noises  in  his 
throat. 

"  Do  you  know  who  I  am?  "  he  gurgled  at  last; 
Stalky  and  Beetle  quaking. 

"No,  sorr,  nor  do  I  care  if  ye  belonged  to  the 
Castle  itself.  Answer  me  now,  as  one  gentleman 
to  another.  Do  ye  shoot  foxes  or  do  ye  not  ?  " 

And  four  years  before  Stalky  and  Beetle  had  care- 
fully kicked  McTurk  out  of  his  Irish  dialect  !  As- 
suredly he  had  gone  mad  or  taken  a  sunstroke,  and 
as  assuredly  he  would  be  slain — once  by  the  old  gen- 
tleman and  once  by  the  Head.  A  public  licking 
for  the  three  was  the  least  they  could  expect.  Yet 

[11] 


STALKY   &   CO. 

— if  their  eyes  and  ears  were  to  be  trusted — the  old 
gentleman  had  collapsed.  It  might  be  a  lull  before 
the  storm,  but 

"  I  do  not. "     He  was  still  gurgling. 

' '  Then  you  must  sack  your  keeper.  He's  not 
fit  to  live  in  the  same  county  with  a  God-fearin' 
fox.  An'  a  vixen,  too — at  this  time  o'  year  ! ' ' 

"  Did  ye  come  up  on  purpose  to  tell  me  this  ?  " 

"  Of  course  I  did,  ye  silly  man,"  with  a  stamp  of 
the  foot.  ' '  Would  you  not  have  done  as  much  for 
me  if  you'd  seen  that  thing  happen  on  my  land, 
now?" 

Forgotten — forgotten  was  the  College  and  the 
decency  due  to  elders  !  McTurk  was  treading  again 
the  barren  purple  mountains  of  the  rainy  "West 
coast,  where  in  his  holidays  he  was  viceroy  of  four 
thousand  naked  acres,  only  son  of  a  three-hundred- 
year-old  house,  lord  of  a  crazy  fishing-boat,  and  the 
idol  of  his  father's  shiftless  tenantry.  It  was  the 
landed  man  speaking  to  his  equal — deep  calling  to 
deep — and  the  old  gentleman  acknowledged  the 
cry. 

"I  apologize,"  said  he.  "I  apologize  unre- 
servedly— to  you,  and  to  the  Old  Country.  Now, 
will  you  be  good  enough  to  tell  me  your  story?  " 

""We  were  in  your  combe,"  McTurk  began,  and 
he  told  his  tale  alternately  as  a  schoolboy  and, 
when  the  iniquity  of  the  thing  overcame  him,  as  ail 

[12] 


"  IN   AMBUSH. " 

indignant  squire;  concluding:  "  So  you  see  he  must 
be  in  the  habit  of  it.  I — we — one  never  wants  to 
accuse  a  neighbor's  man ;  but  I  took  the  liberty  in 
this  case " 

"I  see.  Quite  so.  For  a  reason  ye  had.  In- 
famous— -oh,  infamous  !  "  The  two  had  fallen  into 
step  beside  each  other  on  the  lawn,  and  Colonel 
Dabney  was  talking  as  one  man  to  another.  "  This 
comes  of  promoting  a  fisherman — a  fisherman — from 
his  lobster-pots.  It's  enough  to  ruin  the  reputation 
of  an  archangel.  Don't  attempt  to  deny  it.  It  is  ! 
Your  father  has  brought  you  up  well.  He  has. 
I'd  much  like  the  pleasure  of  his  acquaintance. 
Very  much,  indeed.  And  these  young  gentlemen  ? 
English  they  are.  Don't  attempt  to  deny  it.  They 
came  up  with  you,  too  ?  Extraordinary  !  Extra- 
ordinary, now  !  In  the  present  state  of  education 
I  shouldn't  have  thought  any  three  boys  would  be 
well  enough  grounded.  .  .  .  But  out  of  the 

mouths  of No — no !  Not  that  by  any  odds. 

Don't  attempt  to  deny  it.  Ye're  not  !  Sherry 
always  catches  me  under  the  liver,  but — beer,  now  ? 
Eh?  What  d'you  say  to  beer,  and  something  to 
eat  ?  It's  long  since  I  was  a  boy — abominable  nui- 
sances ;  but  exceptions  prove  the  rule.  And  a  vixen, 
too  !  " 

They  were  fed  on  the  terrace  by  a  gray-haired 
housekeeper.  Stalky  and  Beetle  merely  ate,  but 

fl3] 


STALKY   &   CO. 

McTurk  with  bright  eyes  continued  a  free  and  lofty 
discourse;  and  ever  the  old  gentleman  treated  him 
as  a  brother. 

"My  dear  man,  of  course  ye  can  come  again. 
Did  I  not  say  exceptions  prove  the  rule?  The 
lower  combe?  Man,  dear,  anywhere  ye  please,  so 
long  as  you  do  not  disturb  my  pheasants.  The  two 
are  not  incompatible.  Don't  attempt  to  deny  it. 
They're  not!  I'll  never  allow  another  gun,  though. 
Come  and  go  as  ye  please.  I'll  not  see  you,  and  ye 
needn't  see  me.  Ye've  been  well  brought  up.  An- 
other glass  of  beer,  now  ?  I  tell  you  a  fisherman  he 
was  and  a  fisherman  he  shall  be  to-night  again.  He 
shall !  Wish  I  could  drown  him.  I'll  convoy  you 
to  the  Lodge.  My  people  are  not  precisely — ah — 
broke  to  boy,  but  they'll  know  you  again." 

He  dismissed  them  with  many  compliments  by  the 
high  Lodge-gate  in  the  split-oak  park  palings  and 
they  stood  still;  even  Stalky,  who  had  played  sec- 
ond, not  to  say  a  dumb,  fiddle,  regarding  McTurk 
as  one  from  another  world.  The  two  glasses  of 
strong  home-brewed  had  brought  a  melancholy 
upon  the  boy,  for,  slowly  strolling  with  his  hands 
in  his  pockets,  he  crooned: — "  Oh,  Paddy  dear,  and 
did  ye  hear  the  news  that's  goin'  round?  " 

Under  other  circumstances  Stalky  and  Beetle 
would  have  fallen  upon  him,  for  that  song  was 
barred  utterly — anathema — the  sin  of  witchcraft. 

[14] 


"  IN   AMBUSH." 

But  seeing  what  he  had  wrought,  they  danced 
round  him  in  silence,  waiting  till  it  pleased  him  to 
touch  earth. 

The  tea-bell  rang  when  they  were  still  half  a  mile 
from  College.  McTurk  shivered  and  came  out  of 
dreams.  The  glory  of  his  holiday  estate  had  left 
him.  He  was  a  Colleger  of  the  College,  speaking 
English  once  more. 

"  Turkey,  it  was  immense  !  "  said  Stalky,  gener- 
ously. "  I  didn't  know  you  had  it  in  you.  You've 
got  us  a  hut  for  the  rest  of  the  term,  where  we  sim- 
ply can't  be  collared.  Fids  !  Fids  !  Oh,  Fids  ! 
I  gloat !  Hear  me  gloat !  " 

They  spun  wildly  on  their  heels,  jodeling  after 
the  accepted  manner  of  a  "gloat,"  which  is  not  un- 
remotely  allied  to  the  primitive  man's  song  of  tri- 
umph, and  dropped  down  the  hill  by  the  path  from 
the  gasometer  just  in  time  to  meet  their  house-mas- 
ter, who  had  spent  the  afternoon  watching  their 
abandoned  hut  in  the  "  wuzzy." 

Unluckily,  all  Mr.  Prout's  imagination  leaned  to 
the  darker  side  of  life,  and  he  looked  on  those 
young-eyed  cherubims  most  sourly.  Boys  that  he 
understood  attended  house-matches  and  could  be 
accounted  for  at  any  moment.  But  he  had  heard 
McTurk  openly  deride  cricket — even  house-matches ; 
Beetle's  views  on  the  honor  of  the  house  he  knew 
were  incendiary ;  and  he  could  never  tell  when  the 

[15] 


STALKY   &    CO. 

soft  and  smiling  Stalky  was  laughing  at  him. 
Consequently — since  human  nature  is  what  it  is— 
those  boys  had  been  doing  wrong  somewhere.  He 
hoped  it  was  nothing  very  serious,  but  .  .  . 

"  Ti-ra-la-la-i-tu  !  I  gloat  !  Hear  me  !  "  Stalky, 
still  on  his  heels,  whirled  like  a  dancing  dervish  to 
the  dining-hall. 

"Ti-ra-la-la-i-tu!  I  gloat !  Hear  me  !"  Beetle 
spun  behind  him  with  outstretched  arms. 

"  Ti-ra-la-la-i-lu !  I  gloat!  Hear  me!"  Mc- 
Turk's  voice  cracked. 

Now  was  there  or  was  there  not  a  distinct  flavor 
of  beer  as  they  shot  past  Mr.  Prout  ? 

He  was  unlucky  in  that  his  conscience  as  a  house- 
master impelled  him  to  consult  his  associates.  Had 
he  taken  his  pipe  and  his  troubles  to  little  Har- 
topp's  rooms  he  would,  perhaps,  have  been  saved 
confusion,  for  Hartopp  believed  in  boys,  and  knew 
something  about  them.  His  fate  led  him  to  King, 
a  fellow  house-master,  no  friend  of  his,  but  a  zealous 
hater  of  Stalky  &  Co. 

"  Ah-haa  !  "  said  King,  rubbing  his  hands  when 
the  tale  was  told.  "  Curious  !  Now  my  house 
never  dream  of  doing  these  things." 

"But  you  see  I've  no  proof,  exactly." 

"  Proof?  With  the  egregious  Beetle  !  As  if  one 
wanted  it !  I  suppose  it  is  not  impossible  for  the 
Sergeant  to  supply  it  ?  Foxy  is  considered  at  least 

[16] 


"IN   AMBUSH." 

a  match  for  any  evasive  boy  in  rny  house.  Of  course 
they  were  smoking  and  drinking  somewhere.  That 
type  of  boy  always  does.  They  think  it  manly." 

"But  they've  no  following  in  the  school,  and  they 
are  distinctly — er — brutal  to  their  juniors,"  said 
Prout,  who  had  from  a  distance  seen  Beetle  return, 
with  interest,  his  butterfly-net  to  a  tearful  fag. 

"Ah!  They  consider  themselves  superior  to 
ordinary  delights.  Self -sufficient  little  animals  ! 
There's  something  in  McTurk's  Hibernian  sneer 
that  would  make  me  a  little  annoyed.  And  they 
are  so  careful  to  avoid  all  overt  acts,  too.  It's 
sheer  calculated  insolence.  I  am  strongly  opposed, 
as  you  know,  to  interfering  with  another  man's 
house;  but  they  need  a  lesson,  Prout.  They  need 
a  sharp  lesson,  if  only  to  bring  down  their  over- 
weening self-conceit.  "Were  I  you,  I  should  devote 
myself  for  a  week  to  their  little  performances. 
Boys  of  that  order — and  I  may  flatter  myself,  but  I 
think  I  know  boys — don't  join  the  Bug-hunters  for 
love.  Tell  the  Sergeant  to  keep  his  eye  open;  and, 
of  course, In  my  peregrinations  I  may  casually  keep 
mine  open,  too." 

"  Ti-ra-la-la-i-tu !  I  gloat!  Hear  me!"  far 
down  the  corridor. 

"Disgusting!"  said  King.  "Where  do  they 
pick  up  these  obscene  noises  ?  One  sharp  lesson  is 
what  they  want." 

3  [17] 


STALKY   &    CO. 

The  boys  did  not  concern  themselves  with  lessons 
for  the  next  few  days.  They  had  all  Colonel  Dab- 
ney's  estate  to  play  with,  and  they  explored  it  with 
the  stealth  of  Red  Indians  and  the  accuracy  of 
burglars.  They  could  enter  either  by  the  Lodge- 
gates  on  the  upper  road — they  were  careful  to  in- 
gratiate themselves  with  the  Lodge-keeper  and  his 
wife — drop  down  into  the  combe,  and  return  along 
the  cliffs;  or  they  could  begin  at  the  combe,  and 
climb  up  into  the  road. 

They  were  careful  not  to  cross  the  Colonel's  path 
— he  had  served  his  turn,  and  they  would  not  out- 
wear their  welcome — nor  did  they  show  up  on  the 
sky-line  when  they  could  move  in  cover.  The  shel- 
ter of  the  gorze  by  the  cliff-edge  was  their  chosen 
retreat.  Beetle  christened  it  the  Pleasant  Isle  of 
Aves,  for  the  peace  and  the  shelter  of  it ;  and  here, 
the  pipes  and  tobacco  once  cached  in  a  convenient 
ledge  an  arm's  length  down  the  cliff,  their  position 
was  legally  unassailable. 

For,  observe,  Colonel  Dabney  had  not  invited 
them  to  enter  his  house.  Therefore,  they  did  not 
need  to  ask  specific  leave  to  go  visiting ;  and  school 
rules  were  strict  on  that  point.  He  had  merely 
thrown  open  his  grounds  to  them ;  and,  since  they 
were  lawful  Bug-hunters,  their  extended  bounds  ran 
up  to  his  notice-boards  in  the  combe  and  his  Lodge- 
gates  on  the  hill. 

[18] 


"IN   AMBUSH." 

They  were  amazed  at  their  own  virtue. 

"  And  even  if  it  wasn't,"  said  Stalky,  flat  on  his 
back,  staring  into  the  blue.  "Even  suppose  we 
were  miles  out  of  bounds,  no  one  could  get  at  us 
through  this  wuzzy,  unless  he  knew  the  tunnel. 
Isn't  this  better  than  lyin'  up  just  behind  the  Coll. 
— in  a  blue  funk  every  time  we  had  a  smoke  ?  Isn't 
your  Uncle  Stalky ?  " 


a 


No,"  said  Beetle — he  was  stretched  at  the  edge 
of  the  cliff  spitting  thoughtfully.  "We've  got  to 
thank  Turkey  for  this.  Turkey  is  the  Great  Man. 
Turkey,  dear,  you're  distressing  Heffles." 

"Gloomy  old  ass!"  said  McTurk,  deep  in  a 
book. 

"They've  got  us  under  suspicion,"  said  Stalky. 
"  Hoophats  is  so  suspicious  somehow  ;  and  Foxy 
always  makes  every  stalk  he  does  a  sort  of — sort 
of " 

"  Scalp, "  said  Beetle.  "Foxy's  a  giddy  Chin- 
gangook. ' ' 

"Poor  Foxy,"  said  Stalky.  "He's  goin'  to 
catch  us  one  of  these  days.  'Said  to  me  in  the  Gym 
last  night,  '  I've  got  my  eye  on  you,  Mister  Cork- 
ran.  I'm  only  warning  you  for  your  good.'  Then 
I  said :  '  "Well,  you  jolly  well  take  it  off  again,  or 
you'll  get  into  trouble.  I'm  only  warnin'  you  for 
your  good.'  Foxy  was  wrath. " 

"Yes,  but  it's  only  fair  sport  for  Foxy,"  said 
[19] 


STALKY   &    CO. 

Beetle.  "It's  Hefflelinga  that  has  the  evil  mind. 
'Shouldn't  wonder  if  he  thought  we  got  tight." 

"I  never  got  squiffy  but  once — that  was  in  the 
holidays,"  said  Stalky,  reflectively;  "an'  it  made 
me  horrid  sick.  'Pon  my  sacred  Sam,  though,  it's 
enough  to  drive  a  man  to  drink,  havin'  an  animal 
like  Hoof  for  house-master." 

"If  we  attended  the  matches  an'  yelled,  'Well 
hit,  sir,'  an'  stood  on  one  leg  an'  grinned  every 
time  Heffy  said,  l  So  ho,  my  sons.  Is  it  thus  ?  '  an' 
said,  'Yes,  sir,'  an'  'No,  sir,'  an'  '  O,  sir,'  an' 
1  Please,  sir, '  like  a  lot  o'  filthy  fa-ags,  Heffy  'ud 
think  no  end  of  us,"  said  McTurk  with  a  sneer. 

"  Too  late  to  begin  that." 

"It's  all  right.  The  Hefflelinga  means  well. 
But  he  is  an  ass.  And  we  show  him  that  we  think 
he's  an  ass.  An'  so  Heffy  don't  love  us.  'Told  me 
last  night  after  prayers  that  he  was  in  loco  pa- 
rentis,"  Beetle  grunted. 

"The  deuce  he  did!"  cried  Stalky.  "That 
means  he's  maturin'  something  unusual  dam'  mean. 
Last  time  he  told  me  that  he  gave  me  three  hundred 
lines  for  dancin'  the  cachuca  in  Number  Ten  dor- 
mitory. Loco  parentis,  by  gum  !  But  what's  the 
odds  as  long  as  you're  'appy  ?  We're  all  right. ' ' 

They  were,  and  their  very  rightness  puzzled 
Prout,  King,  and  the  Sergeant.  Boys  with  bad 
consciences  show  it.  They  slink  out  past  the  Fives 

[20] 


"  IN   AMBUSH.'' 

Court  in  haste,  and  smile  nervously  when  ques- 
tioned. They  return,  disordered,  in  bare  time  to 
save  a  call-over.  They  nod  and  wink  and  giggle 
one  to  the  other,  scattering  at  the  approach  of  a 
master.  But  Stalky  and  his  allies  had  long  out- 
lived these  manifestations  of  youth.  They  strolled 
forth  unconcernedly,  and  returned  in  excellent 
shape  after  a  light  refreshment  of  strawberries  and 
cream  at  the  Lodge. 

The  Lodge-keeper  had  been  promoted  to  keeper, 
vice  the  murderous  fisherman,  and  his  wife  made 
much  of  the  boys.  The  man,  too,  gave  them  a 
squirrel,  which  they  presented  to  the  Natural  His- 
tory Society;  thereby  checkmating  little  Hartopp, 
who  wished  to  know  what  they  were  doing  for 
Science.  Foxy  faithfully  worked  some  deep  Devon 
lanes  behind  a  lonely  cross-roads  inn;  and  it  was 
curious  that  Prout  and  King,  members  of  Common- 
room  seldom  friendly,  walked  together  in  the  same 
direction — that  is  to  say,  northeast.  Now,  the 
Pleasant  Isle  of  Aves  lay  due  southwest. 

"They're  deep — day-vilish  deep,"  said  Stalky. 
"  Why  are  they  drawin'  those  covers?  " 

"Me,"  said  Beetle  sweetly.  "I  asked  Foxy  if 
he  had  ever  tasted  the  beer  there.  That  was 
enough  for  Foxy,  and  it  cheered  him  up  a  little. 
He  and  Heffy  were  sniffin'  round  our  old  hut  so 
long  I  thought  they'd  like  a  change." 

[21] 


STALKY   &    CO. 

"Well,  it  can't  last  forever,"  said  Stalky. 
"  Heffy's  bankin'  up  like  a  thunder-cloud,  an'  King 
goes  rubbin'  his  beastly  hands,  an'  grinnin'  like  a 
hyena.  It's  shockin'  demoralizin'  for  King.  He'll 
burst  some  day." 

That  day  came  a  little  sooner  than  they  expected 
— came  when  the  Sergeant,  whose  duty  it  was  to 
collect  defaulters,  did  not  attend  an  afternoon  call- 
over. 

"  Tired  of  pubs,  eh  ?  He's  gone  up  to  the  top  of 
the  hill  with  his  binoculars  to  spot  us,"  said  Stalky. 
"  "Wonder  he  didn't  think  of  that  before.  Did  you 
see  old  Heffy  cock  his  eye  at  us  when  we  answered 
our  names?  Heffy's  in  it,  too.  Ti-ra-la-la-i-tu ! 
I  gloat !  Hear  me  !  Come  on  !  " 

"Aves?"  said  Beetle. 

"Of  course,  but  I'm  not  smokin'  aiijcwrd' hui. 
Parce<p.ie  je  jolly  well  pense  that  we'll  be  suivi. 
We'll  go  along  the  cliffs,  slow,  an'  give  Foxy  lots 
of  time  to  parallel  us  up  above. ' ' 

They  strolled  towards  the  swimming-baths,  and 
presently  overtook  King. 

"  Oh,  don't  let  me  interrupt  you,"  he  said.  "  En- 
gaged in  scientific  pursuits,  of  course  ?  I  trust  you 
will  enjoy  yourselves,  my  young  friends." 

"  You  see  !  "  said  Stalky,  when  they  were  out  of 
ear-shot.  "  He  can't  keep  a  secret.  He's  followin' 
to  cut  off  our  line  of  retreat.  He'll  wait  at  the 

[22] 


"  IN  AMBUSH. " 

baths  till  Heffy  comes  along.  They've  tried  every 
blessed  place  except  along  the  cliffs,  and  now  they 
think  they've  bottled  us.  No  need  to  hurry." 

They  walked  leisurely  over  the  combes  till  they 
reached  the  line  of  notice-boards. 

"Listen  a  shake.  Foxy's  upwind  comin'  down 
hill  like  beans.  When  you  hear  him  move  in  the 
bushes,  go  straight  across  to  Aves.  They  want  to 
catch  usfagrante  delicto." 

They  dived  into  the  gorse  at  right  angles  to  the 
tunnel,  openly  crossing  the  grass,  and  lay  still  in 
Aves. 

"What  did  I  tell  you?"  Stalky  carefuUy  put 
away  the  pipes  and  tobacco.  The  Sergeant,  out  of 
breath,  was  leaning  against  the  fence,  raking  the 
furze  with  his  binoculars,  but  he  might  as  well  have 
tried  to  see  through  a  sand-bag.  Anon,  Prout  and 
King  appeared  behind  him.  They  conferred. 

"Aha  !  Foxy  don't  like  the  notice-boards,  and 
he  don't  like  the  prickles  either.  Now  we'll  cut  up 
the  tunnel  and  go  to  the  Lodge.  Hullo  !  They've 
sent  Foxy  into  cover. ' ' 

The  Sergeant  was  waist-deep  in  crackling,  sway- 
ing furze,  his  ears  filled  with  the  noise  of  his  own 
progress.  The  boys  reached  the  shelter  of  the 
wood  and  looked  down  through  a  belt  of  hollies. 

"  Hellish  noise  !  "  said  Stalky,  criticaUy.  "  'Don't 
think  Colonel  Dabney  will  like  it.  I  move  we  go 

[23] 


STALKY   &   CO. 

into  the  Lodge  and  get  something  to  eat.  "We  might 
as  well  see  the  fun  out." 

Suddenly  the  keeper  passed  them  at  a  trot. 

"Who'm  they  to  combe-bottom  for  Lard's  sake? 
Master'll  be  crazy, ' '  he  said. 

"Poachers  simly,"  Stalky  replied  in  the  broad 
Devon  that  was  the  boy's  langue  de  guerre. 

"I'll  poach  'em  to  raights  !  "  He  dropped  into 
the  funnel-like  combe,  which  presently  began  to  fill 
with  noises,  notably  King's  voice  crying:  "  Go  on, 
Sergeant !  Leave  him  alone,  you,  sir.  He  is  exe- 
cuting my  orders. ' ' 

"  "Who'm  yeou  to  give  arders  here,  gingy  whis- 
kers ?  Yeou  come  up  to  the  master.  Come  out  o' 
that  wuzzy  !  [This  is  to  the  Sergeant.]  Yiss,  \ 
reckon  us  knows  the  boys  yeou'm  after.  They've 
tu  long  ears  an'  vuzzy  bellies,  an'  you  nippies  they 
in  yeour  pockets  when  they'm  dead.  Come  on 
up  to  master !  He'll  boy  yeou  all  you'm  a  mind 
to.  Yeou  other  folk  bide  your  side  fence." 

"Explain  to  the  proprietor.  You  can  explain, 
Sergeant,"  shouted  King.  Evidently  the  Sergeant 
had  surrendered  to  the  major  force. 

Beetle  lay  at  full  length  on  the  turf  behind  the 
Lodge,  literally  biting  the  earth  in  spasms  of  joy. 

Stalky  kicked  him  upright.  There  was  nothing 
of  levity  about  Stalky  or  McTurk  save  a  stray  mus» 
cle  twitching  on  the  cheek. 

[24] 


"  IN   AMBUSH." 

They  tapped  at  the  Lodge  door,  where  they  were 
always  welcome. 

"  Come  yeou  right  in  an'  set  down,  my  little 
dearrs,"  said  the  woman.  "They'll  niver  touch 
my  man.  He'll  poach  'em  to  rights.  Iss  fai ! 
Fresh  berries  an'  cream.  Us  Dartymoor  folk  niver 
forgit  their  friends.  But  them  Bidevor  poachers, 
they've  no  hem  to  their  garments.  Sugar?  My 
man  he've  digged  a  badger  for  yeou,  my  dearrs. 
'Tis  in  the  linhay  in  a  box." 

"Us'll    take  un  with  us    when   we'm    finished 

here.     I  reckon  yeou'm  busy.     We'll  bide  here  an' 

-'tis  washin'  day  with  yeou,  simly,"  said  Stalky. 

"  We'm  no   company  to  make  all  vitty  for.     Never 

yeou  mind  us.     Yiss.     There's  plenty  cream. ' ' 

The  woman  withdrew,  wiping  her  pink  hands  on 
her  apron,  and  left  them  in  the  parlor.  There 
was  a  scuffle  of  feet  on  the  gravel  outside  the 
heavily-leaded  diamond  panes,  and  then  the  voice 
of  Colonel  Dabney,  something  clearer  than  a 
bugle. 

"Ye  can  read?  You've  eyes  in  your  head? 
Don't  attempt  to  deny  it.  Ye  have  !  " 

Beetle  snatched  a  crochet-work  antimacassar  from 
the  shiny  horsehair  sofa,  stuffed  it  into  his  mouth, 
and  rolled  out  of  sight. 

"You  saw  my  notice-boards.  Your  duty? 
Curse  your  impudence,  sir.  Your  duty  was  to  keep 

[25] 


STALKY   &    CO. 

off  my  grounds.  Talk  of  duty  to  me!  Why- 
why — why,  ye  misbegotten  poacher,  ye'll  be  teach- 
ing me  my  ABC  next  !  Koarin'  like  a  bull  in 
the  bushes  down  there  !  Boys  ?  Boys  ?  Boys  ? 
Keep  your  boys  at  home,  then  !  I'm  not  responsi- 
ble for  your  boys  !  But  I  don't  believe  it — I  don't 
believe  a  word  of  it.  Ye've  a  furtive  look  in  your 
eye — a  furtive,  sneakin',  poachin'  look  in  your  eye, 
that  'ud  ruin  the  reputation  of  an  archangel ! 
Don't  attempt  to  deny  it !  Ye  have  !  A  sergeant  ? 
More  shame  to  you,  then,  an'  the  worst  bargain 
Her  Majesty  ever  made  !  A  sergeant,  to  run  about 
the  country  poachin' — on  your  pension  !  Dam- 
nable !  Oh,  damnable  !  But  I'll  be  considerate. 
I'll  be  merciful.  By  gad,  I'll  be  the  very  essence 
o'  humanity  !  Did  ye,  or  did  ye  not,  see  my 
notice-boards?  Don't  attempt  to  deny  it!  Ye 
did.  Silence,  Sergeant !  " 

Twenty-one  years  in  the  army  had  left  their  mark 
on  Foxy.  He  obeyed. 

"Now.     March!" 

The  high  Lodge  gate  shut  with  a  clang.  "My 
duty  !  A  sergeant  to  tell  me  my  duty!  "  puffed 
Colonel  Dabney.  "  Good  Lard  !  more  sergeants  !  " 

"It's  King!     It's  King!"    gulped   Stalky,  his 

head  on  the  horsehair  pillow.     McTurk  was  eating 

the  rag-carpet  before  the  speckless  hearth,  and  the 

sofa  heaved  to  the  emotions  of  Beetle.     Through 

[26] 


"  IN   AMBUSH. 9i 

the  thick  glass  the  figures  without  showed  blue, 
distorted,  and  menacing. 

"I — I  protest  against  this  outrage."  King  had 
evidently  been  running  up  hill.  "  The  man  was 
entirely  within  his  duty.  Let — let  me  give  you  my 
card." 

"He's  in  flannels!"  Stalky  buried  his  head 
again. 

"  Unfortunately — most  unfortunately — I  have  not 
one  with  me,  but  my  name  is  King,  sir,  a  house- 
master of  the  College,  and  you  will  find  me  pre- 
pared— fully  prepared — to  answer  for  this  man's 
action.  We've  seen  three " 

"  Did  ye  see  my  notice-boards  ?  " 

"  I  admit  we  did;  but  under  the  circumstances — " 

"I  stand  in  loco  par entis."  Prout's  deep  voice 
was  added  to  the  discussion.  They  could  hear  him 
pant. 

"  F'what  ?  "  Colonel  Dabney  was  growing  more 
and  more  Irish. 

"  I'm  responsible  for  the  boys  under  my  charge." 

"Ye  are,  are  ye?  Then  all  I  can  say  is  that  ye 
set  them  a  very  bad  example — a  dam'  bad  example, 
if  I  may  say  so.  I  do  not  own  your  boys.  I've 
not  seen  your  boys,  an'  I  tell  you  that  if  there  was 
a  boy  grinnin'  in  every  bush  on  the  place,  still  ye've 
no  shadow  of  a  right  here,  comin'  up  from  the 
combe  that  way,  an'  frightenin'  everything  in  it. 

[27] 


STALKY   &   CO. 

Don't  attempt  to  deny  it,  Ye  did.  Ye  should 
have  come  to  the  Lodge  an'  seen  me  like  Christians, 
instead  of  chasin'  your  dam'  boys  through  the 
length  and  breadth  of  my  covers.  In  loco  parentia 
ye  are  ?  "Well,  I've  not  forgotten  my  Latin  either, 
an'  I'll  say  to  you:  '  Quis  custodiet  ipsos  custodes.' 
If  the  masters  trespass,  how  can  we  blame  the 
boys?" 

"But  if  I  could  speak  to  you  privately,"  said 
Prout. 

"  I'll  have  nothing  private  with  you  !  Ye  can  be 
as  private  as  ye  please  on  the  other  side  o'  that  gate 
an' — I  wish  ye  a  very  good  afternoon." 

A  second  time  the  gate  clanged.  They  waited 
till  Colonel  Dabney  had  returned  to  the  house,  and 
fell  into  one  another's  arms,  crowing  for  breath. 

"  Oh,  my  Soul !  Oh,  my  King  !  Oh,  my  Heffy  ! 
Oh,  my  Foxy  !  Zeal,  all  zeal,  Mr.  Simple." 
Stalky  wiped  his  eyes.  "  Oh  !  Oh  !  Oh  !— « I  did 
boil  the  exciseman  ! '  We  must  get  out  of  this  or 
we'll  be  late  for  tea. ' ' 

"  Ge — ge — get  the  badger  and  make  little  Har- 
topp  happy.  Ma — ma — make  'em  all  happy," 
sobbed  McTurk,  groping  for  the  door  and  kicking 
the  prostrate  Beetle  before  him. 

They  found  the  beast  in  an  evil -smelling  box,  left 
two  half-crowns  for  payment,  and  staggered  home. 
Only  the  badger  grunted  most  marvelous  like 

[28] 


"  IN  AMBUSH." 

Colonel  Dabney,  and  they  dropped  him  twice  or 
thrice  with  shrieks  of  helpless  laughter.  They 
were  but  imperfectly  recovered  when  Foxy  met 
them  by  the  Fives  Court  with  word  that  they  were 
to  go  up  to  their  dormitory  and  wait  till  sent 
for. 

"  Well,  take  this  box  to  Mr.  Hartopp's  rooms, 
then.  We've  done  something  for  the  Natural  His- 
tory Society,  at  any  rate,"  said  Beetle. 

"  'Fraid  that  won't  save  you,  young  gen'elmen," 
Foxy  answered,  in  an  awful  voice.  He  was  sorely 
ruffled  in  his  mind. 

"Allsereno,  Foxibus. "  Stalky  had  reached  the 
extreme  stage  of  hiccups.  "We — we'll  never  de- 
sert you,  Foxy.  Hounds  choppin'  foxes  in  cover  is 
more  a  proof  of  vice,  ain't  it  ?  ...  No,  you're 
right.  I'm — I'm  not  quite  well." 

"They've  gone  a  bit  too  far  this  time,"  Foxy 
thought  to  himself.  "Very  far  gone,  /'<#  say, 
excep'  there  was  no  smell  of  liquor.  An'  yet  it 
isn't  like  'em — somehow.  King  and  Prout  they 
'ad  their  dressin'-down  same  as  me.  That's  one 
comfort." 

"Now,  we  must  pull  up,"  said  Stalky,  rising 
from  the  bed  on  which  he  had  thrown  him- 
self. "We're  injured  innocence — as  usual.  We 
don't  know  what  we've  been  sent  up  here  for,  do 
we?" 

[29] 


STALKY   &    CO. 

"  No  explanation.  Deprived  of  tea.  Public  dis- 
grace before  the  house,"  said  McTurk,  whose  eyes 
were  running  over.  "  It's  dam'  serious." 

"Well,  hold  on,  till  King  loses  his  temper,"  said 
Beetle.  "  He's  a  libelous  old  rip,  an'  he'll  be  in  a 
ravin'  paddy-wack.  Prout's  too  beastly  cautious. 
Keep  your  eye  on  King,  and,  if  he  gives  us  a 
chance,  appeal  to  the  Head.  That  always  makes 
'em  sick." 

They  were  summoned  to  their  house-master's 
study,  King  and  Foxy  supporting  Prout,  and  Foxy 
had  three  canes  under  his  arm.  King  leered  tri- 
umphantly, for  there  were  tears,  undried  tears  of 
mirth,  on  the  boys'  cheeks.  Then  the  examination 
began. 

Yes,  they  had  walked  along  the  cliffs.  Yes,  they 
had  entered  Colonel  Dabney's  grounds.  Yes,  they 
had  seen  the  notice-boards  (at  this  point  Beetle 
sputtered  hysterically).  For  what  purpose  had  they 
entered  Colonel  Dabney's  grounds?  "Well,  sir, 
there  was  a  badger." 

Here  King,  who  loathed  the  Natural  History 
Society  because  he  did  not  like  Hartopp,  could  no 
longer  be  restrained.  He  begged  them  not  to  add 
mendacity  to  open  insolence.  But  the  badger  was 
in  Mr.  Hartopp's  rooms,  sir.  The  Sergeant  had 
kindly  taken  it  up  for  them.  That  disposed  of  the 
badger,  and  the  temporary  check  brought  King's 

[30] 


"  IN   AMBUSH." 

temper  to  boiling-point.  They  could  hear  his  foot 
on  the  floor  while  Prout  prepared  his  lumbering  in- 
quiries. They  had  settled  into  their  stride  now. 
Their  eyes  ceased  to  sparkle;  their  faces  were 
blank;  their  hands  hung  beside  them  without  a 
twitch.  They  were  learning,  at  the  expense  of  a 
fellow-countryman,  the  lesson  of  their  race,  which 
is  to  put  away  all  emotion  and  entrap  the  alien  at 
the  proper  time. 

So  far  good.  King  was  importing  himself  more 
freely  into  the  trial,  being  vengeful  where  Prout 
was  grieved.  They  knew  the  penalties  of  trespass- 
ing ?  With  a  fine  show  of  irresolution,  Stalky  ad- 
mitted that  he  had  gathered  some  information 

vaguely  bearing  on  this  head,  but  he  thought 

The  sentence  was  dragged  out  to  the  uttermost: 
Stalky  did  not  wish  to  play  his  trump  with  such  an 
opponent.  Mr.  King  desired  no  buts,  nor  was  he 
interested  in  Stalky 's  evasions.  They,  on  the  other 
hand,  might  be  interested  in  his  poor  views.  Boys 
who  crept — who  sneaked — who  lurked — out  of 
bounds,  even  the  generous  bounds  of  the  Natural 
History  Society,  which  they  had  falsely  joined  as 
a  cloak  for  their  misdeeds — their  vices — their  vil- 
lainies— their  immoralities 

"He'll  break  cover  in  a  minute,"  said  Stalky  to 
himself.  "Then  we'll  run  into  him  before  he  gets 


away." 


[31] 


STALKY   &    CO. 

Such  boys,  scabrous  boys,  moral  lepers — the  cur- 
rent of  his  words  was  carrying  King  off  his  feet 
• — evil-speakers,  liars,  slow-bellies — yea,  incipient 
drunkards  .  .  . 

He  was  merely  working  up  to  a  peroration,  and 
the  boys  knew  it;  but  McTurk  cut  through  the 
frothing  sentence,  the  others  echoing: 

"  I  appeal  to  the  Head,  sir." 

"  I  appeal  to  the  Head,  sir." 

"I  appeal  to  the  Head,  sir." 

It  was  their  unquestioned  right.  Drunkenness 
meant  expulsion  after  a  public  flogging.  They  had 
been  accused  of  it.  The  case  was  the  Head's,  and 
the  Head's  alone. 

"Thou  hast  appealed  unto  Caesar:  unto  Caesar 
shalt  thou  go."  They  had  heard  that  sentence 
once  or  twice  before  in  their  careers.  ' '  None  the 
less,"  said  King,  uneasily,  "you  would  be  better 
advised  to  abide  by  our  decision,  my  young 
friends." 

"Are  we  allowed  to  associate  with  the  rest  of  the 
school  till  we  see  the  Head,  sir  ?  "  said  McTurk  to  his 
house-master,  disregarding  King.  This  at  once 
lifted  the  situation  to  its  loftiest  plane.  Moreover, 
it  meant  no  work,  for  moral  leprosy  was  strictly 
quarantined,  and  the  Head  never  executed  judg- 
ment till  twenty-four  cold  hours  later. 

"Well — er — if  you  persist  in  your  defiant  atti- 
[32] 


"  IN   AMBUSH." 

tude,"  said  King,  with  a  loving  look  at  the  canes 
under  Foxy's  arm.     "  There  is  no  alternative." 

Ten  minutes  later  the  news  was  over  the  whole 
school.  Stalky  and  Co.  had  fallen  at  last — fallen 
by  drink.  They  had  been  drinking.  They  had  re- 
turned blind-drunk  from  a  hut.  They  were  even 
now  lying  hopelessly  intoxicated  on  the  dormitory 
floor.  A  few  bold  spirits  crept  up  to  look,  and  re- 
ceived boots  about  the  head  from  the  criminals. 

"  "We've  got  him — got  him  on  the  Caudine  Toast- 
ing-fork ! "  said  Stalky,  after  those  hints  were 
taken.  "  King'll  have  to  prove  his  charges  up  to 
the  giddy  hilt." 

' '  Too  much  ticklee,  him  bust, ' '  Beetle  quoted 
from  a  book  of  his  reading.  "  Didn't  I  say  he'd  go 
pop  if  we  lat  un  bide  ?  " 

"No  prep.,  either,  O  ye  incipient  drunkards," 
said  McTurk,  "and  it's  trig  night,  too.  Hullo! 
Here's  our  dear  friend  Fox}r.  More  tortures,  Foxi- 
bus?" 

"  I've  brought  you  something  to  eat,  young  gen- 
tlemen," said  the  Sergeant  from  behind  a  crowded 
tray.  Their  wars  had  ever  been  waged  without 
malice,  and  a  suspicion  floated  in  Foxy's  mind  that 
boys  who  allowed  themselves  to  be  tracked  so  easily 
might,  perhaps,  hold  something  in  reserve.  Foxy 
had  served  through  the  Mutiny,  when  early  ancj 
accurate  information  was  worth  much. 
8  [33] 


STALKY   &   CO. 

"  I — I  noticed  you  'adn't  'ad  anything  to  eat, 
an'  I  spoke  to  Gumbly,  an'  he  said  you  wasn't  ex~ 
actly  cut  off  from  supplies.  So  I  brought  up 
this.  It's  your  potted  'am  tin,  ain't  it,  Mr.  Cork- 
ran?" 

"Why,  Foxibus,  you're  a  brick,"  said  Stalky. 
"I  didn't  think  you  had  this  much — what's  the 
word,  Beetle?" 

"Bowels,"  Beetle  replied,  promptly.  "  Thank 
you,  Sergeant.  That's  young  Carter's  potted  ham, 
though. ' ' 

"  There  was  a  C  on  it.  I  thought  it  was  Mr. 
Corkran's.  This  is  a  very  serious  business,  young 
gentlemen.  That's  what  it  is.  I  didn't  know, 
perhaps,  but  there  might  be  something  on  your 
side  which  you  hadn't  said  to  Mr.  King  or  Mr. 
Prout,  maybe." 

"  There  is.  Heaps,  Foxibus."  This  from  Stalky 
through  a  full  mouth. 

"  Then  you  see,  if  that  was  the  case,  it  seemed  t  - 
me  I  might  represent  it,  quiet  so  to  say,  to  the 
'Ead  when  he  asks  me  about  it.  I've  got  to  take 
'im  the  charges  to-night,  an' — it  looks  bad  on  the 
face  of  it." 

"  'Trocious  bad,  Foxy.  Twenty-seven  cuts  in  the 
Gym  before  all  the  school,  and  public  expulsion. 
'  Wine  is  a  mocker,  strong  drink  is  ragin','  "  quoth 
Beetle. 

[34] 


"  IN   AMBUSH. " 

"  It's  nothin'  to  make  fun  of,  young  gentlemen. 
I  'ave  to  go  to  the  'Ead  with  the  charges.  An' — an' 
you  mayn't  be  aware,  per'aps,  that  I  was  followin' 
you  this  afternoon;  havin'  my  suspicions." 

"Did  ye  see  the  notice-boards?"  croaked  Me- 
Turk,  in  the  very  brogue  of  Colonel  Dabney. 

"Ye've  eyes  in  your  head.  Don't  attempt  to 
deny  it.  Ye  did  ! ' '  said  Beetle. 

"  A  sergeant!  To  run  about  poachin'  on  your 
pension  !  Damnable,  O  damnable  !  "  said  Stalky, 
without  pity. 

"  Good  Lord  !  "  said  the  Sergeant,  sitting  heavily 
upon  a  bed.  "Where — where  the  devil  was  you? 
I  might  ha'  known  it  was  a  do — somewhere." 

"Oh,  you  clever  maniac!"  Stalky  resumed. 
"We  mayn't  be  aware  you  were  followin'  us  this 
afternoon,  mayn't  we?  'Thought  you  were  stalkin' 
us,  eh  ?  Why,  we  led  you  bung  into  it,  of  course. 
Colonel  Dabney — don't  you  think  he's  a  nice  man, 
Foxy  ? — Colonel  Dabney's  our  pet  particular  friend. 
We've  been  goin'  there  for  weeks  and  weeks.  He 
invited  us.  You  and  your  duty  !  Curse  your  duty, 
sir  !  Your  duty  was  to  keep  off  his  covers. ' ' 

"You'll  never  be  able  to  hold  up  your  head 
again,  Foxy.  The  fags  '11  hoot  at  you,"  said 
Beetle.  "  Think  of  your  giddy  prestige  !  " 

The  Sergeant  was  thinking — hard. 

"Look  'ere,  young  gentlemen,"  he  said,  ear- 
[35] 


STALKY   &   CO. 

nestly.  "  You  aren't  surely  ever  goin'  to  tell,  are 
you?  "Wasn't  Mr.  Prout  and  Mr.  King  in — in  it 
too?" 

"  Foxibusculus,  they  was.  They  was — singular 
horrid.  Caught  it  worse  than  you.  We  heard 
every  word  of  it.  You  got  off  easy,  considerin'. 
If  I'd  been  Dabney  I  swear  I'd  ha'  quodded  you. 
I  think  I'll  suggest  it  to  him  to-morrow." 

"An'  it's  all  goin'  up  to  the  'Ead.  Oh,  Good 
Lord  !  " 

"Every  giddy  word  of  it,  my  Chingangook, " 
said  Beetle,  dancing.  "Why  shouldn't  it?  We've 
done  nothing  wrong.  We  ain't  poachers.  We 
didn't  cut  about  blastin'  the  characters  of  poor,  in- 
nocent boys — saying  they  were  drunk." 

"That  I  didn't,"  said  Foxy.  "I— I  only  said 
that  you  be'aved  uncommon  odd  when  you  come 
back  Avith  that  badger.  Mr.  King  may  have  taken 
the  wrong  hint  from  that." 

"  'Course  he  did;  an'  he'll  jolly  well  shove  all  the 
blame  on  you  when  he  finds  out  he's  wrong.  We 
know  King,  if  you  don't.  I'm  ashamed  of  you. 
You  ain't  fit  to  be  a  sergeant,"  said  McTurk. 

"Not  with  three  thorough -goin'  young  devils 
like  you,  I  ain't.  I've  been  had.  I've  been  am- 
buscaded. Horse,  foot,  an'  guns,  I've  been  had, 
an' — an'  there'll  be  no  holdin'  the  junior  forms 
after  this.  M'rover,  the  'Ead  will  send  me  with  a 

[36] 


"  IN   AMBUSH. '; 

note  to  Colonel  Dabney  to  ask  if  what  you  say 
about  bein'  invited  was  true. ' ' 

"Then  you'd  better  go  in  by  the  Lodge-gates 
this  time,  instead  of  chasin'  your  dam'  boys — oh, 
that  was  the  Epistle  to  King — so  it  was.  We-el, 
Foxy  ? ' '  Stalky  put  his  chin  on  his  hands  and 
regarded  the  victim  with  deep  delight. 

"  Ti-ra-la-la-i-tu !  I  gloat!  Hear  me!"  said 
McTurk.  ' '  Foxy  brought  us  tea  when  we  were 
moral  lepers.  Foxy  has  a  heart.  Foxy  has  been  in 
the  Army,  too. ' ' 

"  I  wish  I'd  ha'  had  you  in  my  company,  young 
gentlemen,"  said  the  Sergeant  from  the  depths  of 
his  heart;  "  I'd  ha'  given  you  something." 

"Silence  at  drum-head  court-martial,"  McTurk 
went  on.  "I'm  advocate  for  the  prisoner;  and, 
besides,  this  is  much  too  good  to  tell  all  the  other 
brutes  in  the  Coll.  They'd  never  understand. 
They  play  cricket,  and  say:  'Yes,  sir,'  and  '  O, 
sir,'  and  'No,  sir.'  " 

"  Never  mind  that.     Go  ahead,"  said  Stalky. 

"Well,  Foxy's  a  good  little  chap  when  he  does 
not  esteem  himself  so  as  to  be  clever." 

"  '  Take  not  out  your  'ounds  on  a  werry  windy 
day,'  "  Stalky  struck  in.  "/don't  care  if  you  let 
him  off." 

"  Nor  me,"  said  Beetle.  "  Heffy  is  my  only  joy 
— Heffy  and  King." 

[at] 


STALKY   &    CO. 

"I  'ad  to  do  it,"  said  the  Sergeant,  plaintively. 

"Eight,  O  !  Led  away  by  bad  companions  in 
the  execution  of  his  duty  or — or  words  to  that 
effect.  You're  dismissed  with  a  reprimand,  Foxy. 
We  won't  tell  about  you.  I  swear  we  won't," 
McTurk  concluded.  "  Bad  for  the  discipline  of  the 
school.  Horrid  bad." 

"Well,"  said  the  Sergeant,  gathering  up  the 
tea-things,  "knowin'  what  I  know  o'  the  young 
dev — gentlemen  of  the  College,  I'm  very  glad  to 
'ear  it.  But  what  am  I  to  tell  the  'Ead  ?  " 

"Anything  you  jolly  well  please,  Foxy.  We 
aren't  the  criminals." 

To  say  that  the  Head  was  annoyed  when  the  Ser- 
geant appeared  after  dinner  with  the  day's  crime- 
sheet  would  be  putting  it  mildly. 

"Corkran,  McTurk,  and  Co.,  I  see.  Bounds  as 
usual.  Hullo  !  What  the  deuce  is  this  ?  Suspicion 
of  drinking.  Whose  charge  ?" 

"Mr.  King's,  sir.  I  caught  'em  out  of  bounds, 
sir :  at  least  that  was  'ow  it  looked.  But  there's  a  lot 
be'ind,  sir."  The  Sergeant  was  evidently  troubled. 

"Go  on,"  said  the  Head.  "Let  us  have  your 
version." 

He  and  the  Sergeant  had  dealt  with  one  another 
for  some  seven  years ;  and  the  Head  knew  that  Mr. 
King's  statements  depended  very  largely  on  Mr. 
King's  temper. 

[38] 


AMBUSH. 


?  i 


"I  thought  they  were  out  of  bounds  along  the 
cliffs.  But  it  come  out  they  wasn't,  sir.  I  saw 
them  go  into  Colonel  Dabney's  woods,  and — Mr. 
King  and  Mr.  Prout  come  along — and — the  fact 
was,  sir,  we  was  mistook  for  poachers  by  Colonel 
Dabney's  people — Mr.  King  and  Mr.  Prout  and 
me.  There  were  some  words,  sir,  on  both  sides. 
The  young  gentleman  slipped  'ome  somehow,  and 
they  seemed  'ighly  humorous,  sir.  Mr.  King  was 
mistook  by  Colonel  Dabney  himself — Colonel  Dab- 
ney  bein'  strict.  Then  they  preferred  to  come 
straight  to  you,  sir,  on  account  of  what — what  Mr. 
King  may  'ave  said  about  their  'abits  afterwards  in 
Mr.  Prout's  study.  I  only  said  they  was  'ighly 
humorous,  laughin'  an'  gigglin',  an'  a  bit  above 
'emselves.  They've  since  told  me,  sir,  in  a  humor- 
ous way,  that  they  was  invited  by  Colonel  Dabney 
to  go  into  'is  woods." 

"I  see.  They  didn't  tell  their  house-master  that, 
of  course." 

"They  took  up  Mr.  King  on  appeal  just  as  soon 
as  he  spoke  about  their — 'abits.  Put  in  the  appeal 
at  once,  sir,  an'  asked  to  be  sent  to  the  dormitory 
waitin'  for  you.  I've  since  gathered,  sir,  in  their 
humorous  way,  sir,  that  some'ow  or  other  they've 
'eard  about  every  word  Colonel  Dabney  said  to 
Mr.  King  and  Mr.  Prout  when  he  mistook  'em  for 
poachers.  I — I  might  ha'  known  when  they  led 
4  [39] 


STALKY    &    CO. 

me  on  so  that  they  'eld  the  inner  line  of  communi- 
cations. It's — it's  a  plain  do,  sir,  if  you  ask  me ; 
an'  they're  gloatin'  over  it  in  the  dormitory." 

The  Head  saw — saw  even  to  the  uttermost  far- 
thing— and  his  mouth  twitched  a  little  under  his 
mustache. 

"  Send  them  to  me  at  once,  Sergeant.  This  case 
needn't  wait  over." 

"Good  evening,"  said  he  when  the  three  ap- 
peared under  escort.  "I  want  your  undivided  at- 
tention for  a  few  minutes.  You've  known  me  for 
five  years,  and  I've  known  you  for — twenty-five. 
I  think  we  understand  one  another  perfectly.  I  am 
now  going  to  pay  you  a  tremendous  compliment 
(the  brown  one,  please,  Sergeant.  Thanks.  You 
needn't  wait).  I'm  going  to  execute  you  without 
rhyme,  Beetle,  or  reason.  I  know  you  went  to 
Colonel  Dabney's  covers  because  you  were  invited. 
I'm  not  even  going  to  send  the  Sergeant  with  a 
note  to  ask  if  your  statement  is  true;  because  I  am 
convinced  that  on  this  occasion  you  have  adhered 
strictly  to  the  truth.  I  know,  too,  that  you  were 
not  drinking.  (You  can  take  off  that  virtuous  ex- 
pression, McTurk,  or  I  shall  begin  to  fear  you  don't 
understand  me.)  There  is  not  a  flaw  in  any  of  your 
characters.  And  that  is  why  I  am  going  to  per- 
petrate a  howling  injustice.  Your  reputations 
have  been  injured,  haven't  they?  You  have  been 

[40] 


"IN   AMBUSH." 

disgraced  before  the  house,  haven't  you  ?  You  have 
a  peculiarly  keen  regard  for  the  honor  of  your 
house,  haven't  you  ?  "Well,  now  I  am  going  to  lick 
you." 

Six  apiece  was  their  portion  upon  that  word. 

"And  this  I  think  "—the  Head  replaced  the 
cane,  and  flung  the  written  charge  into  the  waste- 
paper  basket — •"  covers  the  situation.  When  you 
find  a  variation  from  the  normal — this  will  be  use- 
ful to  you  in  later  life — always  meet  him  in  an  ab- 
normal way.  And  that  reminds  me.  There  are  a 
pile  of  paper-backs  on  that  shelf.  You  can  borrow 
them  if  you  put  them  back.  I  don't  think  they'll 
take  any  harm  from  being  read  in  the  open.  They 
smell  of  tobacco  rather.  You  will  go  to  prep,  this 
evening  as  usual.  Good-night,"  said  that  amazing 
man. 

"  Good-night,  and  thank  you,  sir." 

"I  swear  I'll  pray  for  the  Head  to-night,"  said 
Beetle.  "  Those  last  two  cuts  were  just  flicks  on 
my  collar.  There's  a  '  Monte  Cristo  '  in  that  lower 
shelf.  I  saw  it.  Bags  I,  next  time  we  go  to 
Aves  !  " 

"Dearr  man!"  said  McTurk.  "No  gating. 
No  impots.  No  beastly  questions.  All  settled. 
Ilullo  !  what's  King  goin'  in  to  him  for — King  and 
Prout?" 

Whatever  the  nature  of  that  interview,  it  did 
4 


STALKY   &    CO. 

not  improve  either  King's  or  Front's  ruffled  plumes, 
for,  when  they  came  out  of  the  Head's  house,  six 
eyes  noted  that  the  one  was  red  and  blue  with  emo- 
tion as  to  his  nose,  and  that  the  other  was  sweating 
profusely.  That  sight  compensated  them  amply  for 
the  Imperial  Jaw  with  which  they  were  favored  by 
the  two.  It  seems — and  who  so  astonished  as  they  ? — 
that  they  had  held  back  material  facts ;  that  they 
were  guilty  both  of  suppressio  veri  and  suggestio 
falsi  (well-known  gods  against  whom  they  often 
offended);  further,  that  they  were  malignant  in 
their  dispositions,  untrustworthy  in  their  char- 
acters, pernicious  and  revolutionary  in  their  influ- 
ences, abandoned  to  the  devils  of  wilfulness,  pride, 
and  a  most  intolerable  conceit.  Ninthly,  and  lastly, 
they  were  to  have  a  care  and  to  be  very  careful. 

They  were  careful,  as  only  boys  can  be  when 
there  is  a  hurt  to  be  inflicted.  They  waited  through 
one  suffocating  week  till  Prout  and  King  were  their 
royal  selves  again;  waited  till  there  was  a  house- 
match — their  own  house,  too — in  which  Prout  was 
taking  part;  waited,  further,  till  he  had  buckled  on 
his  pads  in  the  pavilion  and  stood  ready  to  go  forth. 
King  was  scoring  at  the  window,  and  the  three  sat 
on  a  bench  without. 

Said  Stalky  to  Beetle:  "I  say,  Beetle,  guis  cus- 
todiet  ipsos  custodes  f  ' ' 

"  Don't  ask  me,"  said  Beetle.  "  I'll  have  nothin' 
[42] 


"  IX  AMBUSH. >; 

private  with  you.  Ye  can  be  as  private  as  ye  please 
the  other  end  of  the  bench ;  and  I  wish  ye  a  very 
good  afternoon. ' ' 

McTurk  yawned. 

"Well,  ye  should  ha'  come  up  to  the  lodge  like 
Christians  instead  o'  chasin'  your — a-hem — boys 
through  the  length  an'  breadth  of  my  covers. 
/  think  these  house-matches  are  all  rot.  Let's  go 
over  to  Colonel  Dabney's  an'  see  if  he's  collared 
any  more  poachers." 

That  afternoon  there  was  joy  in  Aves. 


[43] 


SLAVES   OF   THE   LAMP. 

THE  music-room  on  the  top  floor  of  Number  Five 
was  filled  with  the  "Aladdin"  company  at  re- 
hearsal. Dickson  Quartus,  commonly  known  as 
Dick  Four,  was  Aladdin,  stage-manager,  ballet- 
master,  half  the  orchestra,  and  largely  librettist, 
for  the  "book"  had  been  rewritten  and  filled  with 
local  allusions.  The  pantomime  was  to  be  given 
next  week,  in  the  down-stairs  study  occupied  by 
Aladdin,  Abanazar,  and  the  Emperor  of  China. 
The  Slave  of  the  Lamp,  with  the  Princess  Badroul- 
badour  and  the  Widow  Twankay,  owned  Number 
Five  study  across  the  same  landing,  so  that  the  com- 
pany could  be  easily  assembled.  The  floor  shook  to 
the  stamp-and-go  of  the  ballet,  while  Aladdin,  in 
pink  cotton  tights,  a  blue  and  tinsel  jacket,  and  a 
plumed  hat,  banged  alternately  on  the  piano  and 
his  banjo.  He  was  the  moving  spirit  of  the  game, 
as  befitted  a  senior  who  had  passed  his  Army  Pre- 
liminary and  hoped  to  enter  Sandhurst  next  spring. 

Aladdin  came  to  his  own  at  last,  Abanazar  lay 
poisoned  on  the  floor,  the  Widow  Twankay 

[44] 


SLAVES    OF   THE   LAMP. 

danced  her  dance,  and  the  company  decided  it 
would  "  come  all  right  on  the  night." 

"What  about  the  last  song,  though?"  said  the 
Emperor,  a  tallish,  fair-headed  boy  with  a  ghost  of 
a  mustache,  at  which  he  pulled  manfully.  "We 
need  a  rousing  old  tune." 

"  '  John  Peel '  ?  '  Drink,  Puppy,  Drink '  ?  "  sug- 
gested Abanazar,  smoothing  his  baggy  lilac  pa- 
jamas. "  Pussy  "  Abanazar  never  looked  more  than 
one-half  awake,  but  he  owned  a  soft,  slow  smile 
which  well  suited  the  part  of  the  Wicked  Uncle. 

"Stale,"  said  Aladdin.  "Might  as  well  have 
'Grandfather's  Clock.'  What's  that  thing  you 
were  humming  at  prep,  last  night,  Stalky?  " 

Stalky,  The  Slave  of  the  Lamp,  in  black  tights 
and  doublet,  a  black  silk  half-mask  on  his  forehead, 
whistled  lazily  where  he  lay  on  the  top  of  the  piano. 
It  was  a  catchy  music-hall  tune. 

Dick  Four  cocked  his  head  critically,  and  squinted 
down  a  large  red  nose. 

"Once  more,  and  I  can  pick  it  up,"  he  said, 
strumming.  "  Sing  the  words. " 

"Arrah,  Patsy,  mind  the  baby!    Arrah,  Patsy,  mind  the 

child ! 

Wrap  him  in  an  overcoat,  he's  surely  going  wild ! 
Arrah,  Patsy,  mind  the  baby  !   just  you  mind  the  child 

awhile ! 
He'll  kick  and  bite  and  cry  all  night !    Arrah,  Patsy,  mind 

the  child!" 

[45] 


STALKY    &    CO. 

"Rippin'!  Oh,  rippin'!"  said  Dick  Four. 
"Only  we  shan't  have  any  piano  on  the  night. 
We  must  work  it  with  the  banjoes — play  an'  dance 
at  the  same  time.  You  try,  Tertius." 

The  Emperor  pushed  aside  his  pea-green  sleeves 
of  state,  and  followed  Dick  Four  on  a  heavy  nickel- 
plated  banjo. 

"Yes,  but  I'm  dead  all  this  time.  Bung  in  the 
middle  of  the  stage,  too,"  said  Abanazar. 

"Oh,  that's  Beetle's  biznai,"  said  Dick  Four. 
"Vamp  it  up,  Beetle.  Don't  keep  us  waiting  all 
night.  You've  got  to  get  Pussy  out  of  the  light 
somehow,  and  bring  us  all  in  dancin'  at  the  end." 

"All  right.  You  two  play  it  again,"  said  Beetle, 
who,  in  a  gray  skirt  and  a  wig  of  chestnut  sausage- 
curls,  set  slantwise  above  a  pair  of  spectacles 
mended  with  an  old  boot-lace,  represented  the 
Widow  Twankay.  He  waved  one  leg  in  time  to 
the  hammered  refrain,  and  the  banjoes  grew  louder. 

"Um!  Ah!  Er — 'Aladdin  now  has  won  his 
wife, '  "  he  sang,  and  Dick  Four  repeated  it. 

"  '  Your  Emperor  is  appeased.' '  Tertius  flung 
out  his  chest  as  he  delivered  his  line. 

"Now  jump  up,  Pussy  !  Say,  'I  think  I'd  bet- 
ter come  to  life  ! '  Then  we  all  take  hands  and 
come  forward:  'We  hope  you've  all  been  pleased. ' 
Twiggez-vous  f  " 

"Nous  twiggons.  Good  enough.  What's  the 
[46] 


SLAVES    OF   THE   LAMP. 

chorus  for  the  final  ballet  ?    It's  four  kicks  and  a 
turn,"  said  Dick  Four. 
"  Oh !     Er  ! 

John  Short  will  ring  the  curtain  down. 

And  ring  the  prompter's  bell ; 
We  hope  you  know  before  you  go 

That  we  all  wish  you  well." 

"Kippin'  !  Kippin'  !  Now  for  the  Widow's 
scene  with  the  Princess.  Hurry  up,  Turkey." 

McTurk,  in  a  violet  silk  skirt  and  a  coquettish 
blue  turban,  slouched  forward  as  one  thoroughly 
ashamed  of  himself.  The  Slave  of  the  Lamp 
climbed  down  from  the  piano,  and  dispassionately 
kicked  him.  "Play  up,  Turkey,"  he  said;  "this 
is  serious."  But  there  fell  on  the  door  the  knock 
of  authority.  It  happened  to  be  King,  in  gown  and 
mortar-board,  enjoying  a  Saturday  evening  prowl 
before  dinner. 

"Locked  doors!  Locked  doors!"  he  snapped 
with  a  scowl.  "What's  the  meaning  of  this;  and 
what,  may  I  ask,  is  the  intention  of  this — this  epi- 
cene attire?" 

"Pantomime,  sir.  The  Head  gave  us  leave," 
said  Abanazar,  as  the  only  member  of  the  Sixth 
concerned.  Dick  Four  stood  firm  in  the  confidence 
born  of  well-fitting  tights,  but  Beetle  strove  to 
efface  himself  behind  the  piano.  A  gray  princess- 

[4Y] 


STALKY   &    CO. 

skirt  borrowed  from  a  day-boy's  mother  and  a 
spotted  cotton  bodice  unsystematically  padded  with 
imposition-paper  make  one  ridiculous.  And  in  other 
regards  Beetle  had  a  bad  conscience. 

"As  usual!"  sneered  King.  "Futile  foolery 
just  when  your  careers,  such  as  they  may  be,  are 
hanging  in  the  balance.  I  see  !  Ah,  I  see  !  The 
old  gang  of  criminals — allied  forces  of  disorder— 
Corkran  " — the  Slave  of  the  Lamp  smiled  politely— 
"  McTurk  "  —  the  Irishman  scowled  —  "  and,  of 
course,  the  unspeakable  Beetle,  our  friend  Giga- 
dibs."  Abanazar,  the  Emperor,  and  Aladdin  had 
more  or  less  of  characters,  and  King  passed  them 
over.  "Come  forth,  my  inky  buffoon,  from  be- 
hind yonder  instrument  of  music  !  You  supply,  I 
presume,  the  doggerel  for  this  entertainment.  Es- 
teem yourself  to  be,  as  it  were,  a  poet  ?  ' ' 

"  He's  found  one  of  'em,"  thought  Beetle,  noting 
the  flush  on  King's  cheek-bone. 

"  I  have  just  had  the  pleasure  of  reading  an  effu- 
sion of  yours  to  my  address,  I  believe — an  effusion 
intended  to  rhyme.  So — so  you  despise  me,  Master 
Gigadibs,  do  you?  I  am  quite  aware — you  need 
not  explain — that  it  was  ostensibly  hot  intended  for 
my  edification.  I  read  it  with  laughter — yes,  with 
laughter.  These  paper  pellets  of  inky  boys — still  a 
boy  we  are,  Master  Gigadibs — do  not  disturb  my 
equanimity." 

[48] 


SLAVES    OF   THE   LAMP. 

"Wonder  which  it  was,"  thought  Beetle.  He 
had  launched  many  lampoons  on  an  appreciative 
public  ever  since  he  discovered  that  it  was  possible 
to  convey  reproof  in  rhyme. 

In  sign  of  his  unruffled  calm,  King  proceeded 
to  tear  Beetle,  whom  he  called  Gigadibs,  slowly 
asunder.  From  his  untied  shoestrings  to  his 
mended  spectacles  (the  life  of  a  poet  at  a  big  school 
is  hard)  he  held  him  up  to  the  derision  of  his  asso- 
ciates— with  the  usual  result.  His  wild  flowers  of 
speech — King  had  an  unpleasant  tongue — restored 
him  to  good  humor  at  the  last.  He  drew  a  lurid 
picture  of  Beetle's  latter  end  as  a  scurrilous  pam- 
phleteer dying  in  an  attic,  scattered  a  few  compli- 
ments over  McTurk  and  Corkran,  and,  reminding 
Beetle  that  he  must  come  up  for  judgment  when 
called  upon,  went  to  Common-room,  where  he  tri- 
umphed anew  over  his  victims. 

"And  the  worst  of  it,"  he  explained  in  a  loud 
voice  over  his  soup,  "is  that  I  waste  such  gems  of 
sarcasm  on  their  thick  heads.  It's  miles  above 
them,  I'm  certain." 

"We-ell,"  said  the  school  chaplain  slowly,  "I 
don't  know  what  Corkran's  appreciation  of  your 
style  may  be,  but  young  McTurk  reads  Ruskin  for 
his  amusement." 

"  Nonsense !  He  does  it  to  show  off.  I  mistrust 
the  dark  Celt." 


STALKY   &    CO. 

"  He  does  nothing  of  the  kind.  I  went  into  their 
study  the  other  night,  unofficially,  and  McTurk  was 
gluing  up  the  back  of  four  odd  numbers  of  '  Fors 
Clavigera.'  : 

"I  don't  know  anything  about  their  private 
lives,"  said  a  mathematical  master  hotly,  "  but  I've 
learned  by  bitter  experience  that  Number  Five 
study  are  best  left  alone.  They  are  utterly  soulless 
young  devils. "  He  blushed  as  the  others  laughed. 

But  in  the  music-room  there  were  wrath  and  bad 
language.  .  Only  Stalky,  Slave  of  the  Lamp,  lay  on 
the  piano  unmoved. 

"  That  little  swine  Manders  minor  must  have 
shown  him  your  stuff.  He's  always  suckin'  up  to 
King.  Go  and  kill  him,"  he  drawled.  "  Which  one 
was  it,  Beetle?" 

"Dunno,"  said  Beetle,  struggling  out  of  the 
skirt.  ci  There  was  one  about  his  hunting  for  popu- 
larity with  the  small  boys,  and  the  other  one  was 
one  about  him  in  hell,  tellin'  the  Devil  he  was  a 
Balliol  man.  I  swear  both  of  'em  rhymed  all 
right.  By  gum  !  P'raps  Manders  minor  showed 
him  both  !  /'^correct  his  caesuras  for  him." 

He  disappeared  down  two  flights  of  stairs,  flushed 
a  small  pink  and  white  boy  in  a  form-room  next 
door  to  King's  study,  which,  again,  was  immedi- 
ately below  his  own,  and  chased  him  up  the  corri- 
dor into  a  form-room  sacred  to  the  revels  of  the 

[50] 


SLAVES    OP   THE   LAMP. 

Lower  Third.  Thence  he  came  back,  greatly  dis- 
ordered, to  find  McTurk,  Stalky,  and  the  others  of 
the  company,  in  his  study  enjoying  an  unlimited 
' '  brew  ' ' — coffee,  cocoa,  buns,  new  bread  hot  and 
steaming,  sardine,  sausage,  ham-and-tongue  pastev 
pilchards,  three  jams,  and  at  least  as  many  pounds 
of  Devonshire  cream. 

' '  My  Hat  ! ' '  said  he,  throwing  himself  upon 
the  banquet.  "  Who  stumped  up  for  this,  Stalky?  " 
It  was  within  a  month  of  term  end,  and  blank 
starvation  had  reigned  in  the  studies  for  weeks. 

"You,"  said  Stalky,  serenely. 

"  Confound  you  !  You  haven't  been  popping  my 
Sunday  bags,  then  ?  " 

"  Keep  your  hair  on.     It's  only  your  watch." 

"Watch!  I  lost  it — weeks  ago.  Out  on  the 
Burrows,  when  we  tried  to  shoot  the  old  ram — the 
day  our  pistol  burst." 

"  It  dropped  out  of  your  pocket  (you're  so  beastly 
careless,  Beetle),  and  McTurk  and  I  kept  it  for  you. 
I've  been  wearing  it  for  a  week,  and  you  never 
noticed.  Took  it  into  Bideford  after  dinner  to-day. 
Got  thirteen  and  sevenpence.  Here's  the  ticket." 

"Well,  that's  pretty  average  cool,"  said  Aba- 
nazar  behind  a  slab  of  cream  and  jam,  as  Beetle,  re- 
assured upon  the  safety  of  his  Sunday  trousers, 
showed  not  even  surprise,  much  less  resentment. 
Indeed,  it  was  McTurk  who  grew  angry,  saying: 

[51] 


STALKY   &    CO. 

"  You  gave  him  the  ticket^  Stalky?  You  pawned 
it?  You  unmitigated  beast  !  Why,  last  month 
you  and  Beetle  sold  mine  !  '  Never  got  a  sniff  of 
any  ticket." 

"  Ah,  that  was  because  you  locked  your  trunk, 
and  we  wasted  half  the  afternoon  hammering  it 
open.  "We  might  have  pawned  it  if  you'd  behaved 
like  a  Christian,  Turkey. ' ' 

"My  Aunt!"  said  Abanazar,  "you  chaps  are 
communists.  Yote  of  thanks  to  Beetle,  though. ' ' 

"That's  beastly  unfair,"  said  Stalky,  "when  I 
took  all  the  trouble  to  pawn  it.  Beetle  never  knew 
he  had  a  watch.  Oh,  I  say,  Kabbits-Eggs  gave  me 
a  lift  into  Bideford  this  afternoon." 

Rabbits-Eggs  was  the  local  carrier — an  outcrop  of 
the  early  Devonian  formation.  It  was  Stalk}''  who 
had  invented  his  unlovely  name.  "  He  was  pretty 
average  drunk,  or  he  wouldn't  haved  one  it.  Rab- 
bits-Eggs is  a  little  shy  of  me,  somehow.  But  I 
swore  it  was  pax  between  us,  and  gave  him  a  bob. 
He  stopped  at  two  pubs  on  the  way  in,  so  he'll  be 
howling  drunk  to-night.  Oh,  don't  begin  reading, 
Beetle;  there's  a  council  of  war  on.  What  the 
deuce  is  the  matter  with  your  collar  ?  " 

"  'Chivied  Manders  minor  into  the  Lower  Third 
box-room.'  'Had  all  his  beastly  little  friends  on  top 
of  me,"  said  Beetle  from  behind  a  jar  of  pilchards 
and  a  book. 

[52] 


SLAVES    OF   THE   LAMP. 

"  You  ass  !  Any  fool  could  have  told  you  where 
Manders  would  bunk  to,"  said  McTurk. 

"I  didn't  think,"  said  Beetle,  meekly,  scooping 
out  pilchards  with  a  spoon. 

"Course  you  didn't.  You  never  do."  McTurk 
adjusted  Beetle's  collar  with  a  savage  tug.  "  Don't 
drop  oil  all  over  my  '  Fors,'  or  I'll  scrag  you  !  " 

"  Shut  up,  you — you  Irish  Biddy  !  'Tisn't  your 
beastly  '  Fors.'  It's  one  of  mine." 

The  book  was  a  fat,  brown-backed  volume  of  the 
later  Sixties,  which  King  had  once  thrown  at 
Beetle's  head  that  Beetle  might  see  whence  the 
name  Gigadibs  came.  Beetle  had  quietly  annexed 
the  book,  and  had  seen — several  things.  The  quar- 
ter-comprehended verses  lived  and  ate  with  him,  as 
the  bedropped  pages  showed.  He  removed  himself 
from  all  that  world,  drifting  at  large  with  wondrous 
Men  and  Women,  till  McTurk  hammered  the  pil- 
chard spoon  on  his  head  and  he  snarled. 

"Beetle!  You're  oppressed  and  insulted  and 
bullied  by  King.  Don't  you  feel  it  ?  " 

"Let  me  alone  !  I  can  write  some  more  poetry 
about  him  if  I  am,  I  suppose." 

"Mad  !  Quite  mad  !  "  said  Stalky  to  the  visit- 
ors, as  one  exhibiting  strange  beasts.  "  Beetle  reads 
an  ass  called  Brownin',  and  McTurk  reads  an  ass 
called  Ruskin;  and " 

"  Ruskin  isn't  an  ass,"  said  McTurk,  "He's 
[53] 


STALKY   &    CO. 

almost  as  good  as  the  Opium  Eater.  He  says 
'  we're  children  of  noble  races  trained  by  surround- 
ing art.'  That  means  me,  and  the  way  I  decorated 
the  study  when  you  two  badgers  would  have  stuck 
up  brackets  and  Christmas  cards.  Child  of  a  noble 
race,  trained  by  surrounding  art,  stop  reading,  or  I'll 
shove  a  pilchard  down  your  neck  ! ' ' 

"It's  two  to  one,"  said  Stalky,  warningly,  and 
Beetle  closed  the  book,  in  obedience  to  the  law 
under  which  he  and  his  companions  had  lived  for 
six  checkered  years. 

The  visitors  looked  on  delighted.  Number  Five 
study  had  a  reputation  for  more  variegated  insanity 
than  the  rest  of  the  school  put  together;  and  so  far 
as  its  code  allowed  friendship  with  outsiders  it  was 
polite  and  open-hearted  to  its  neighbors  on  the  same 
landing. 

"  What  rot  do  you  want  now  ?  "  said  Beetle. 

"  King  !  "War  !  "  said  McTurk,  jerking  his  head 
toward  the  wall,  where  hung  a  small  wooden  "West- 
African  war-drum,  a  gift  to  McTurk  from  a  naval 
uncle. 

"Then  we  shall  be  turned  out  of  the  study 
again,"  said  Beetle,  who  loved  his  flesh-pots. 
''Mason  turned  us  out  for — just  warbling  on  it." 
Mason  was  the  mathematical  master  who  had  testi- 
fied in  Common-room. 

* '  Warbling  ?— O  Lord  ! ' '  said  Abanaaar.  ' ' We 
[54] 


SLAVES    OP   THE   LAMP. 

couldn't  hear  ourselves  speak  in  our  study  when  you 
played  the  infernal  thing.  What's  the  good  of  get- 
ting turned  out  of  your  study,  anyhow?  " 

"We  lived  in  the  form-rooms  for  a  week,  too," 
said  Beetle,  tragically.  "  And  it  was  beastly  cold." 

"  Ye-es,  but  Mason's  rooms  were  filled  with  rats 
every  day  we  were  out.  It  took  him  a  week  to 
draw  the  inference,"  said  McTurk.  "He  loathes 
rats.  'Minute  he  let  us  go  back  the  rats  stopped. 
Mason's  a  little  shy  of  us  now,  but  there  was  no 
evidence. ' ' 

"Jolly  well  there  wasn't,"  said  Stalky,  "when  I 
got  out  on  the  roof  and  dropped  the  beastly  things 
down  his  chimney.  But,  look  here — question  is, 
are  our  characters  good  enough  just  now  to  stand  a 
study  row?  " 

"  Never  mind  mine,"  said  Beetle.  "  King  swears 
I  haven't  any." 

"I'm  not  thinking  of  you,"  Stalky  returned 
scornfully.  "You  aren't  going  up  for  the  Army, 
you  old  bat.  I  don't  want  to  be  expelled — and  the 
Head's  getting  rather  shy  of  us,  too." 

"  Eot !  "  said  McTurk.  "  The  Head  never  expels 
except  for  beastliness  or  stealing.  But  I  forgot ; 
you  and  Stalky  are  thieves — regular  burglars. ' ' 

The  visitors  gasped,  but  Stalky  interpreted  the 
parable  with  large  grins. 

"Well,  you  know,  that  little  beast  Manders 
5  [55] 


STALKY   &   CO. 

minor  saw  Beetle  and  me  hammerin'  McTurk's 
trunk  open  in  the  dormitory  when  we  took  his 
watch  last  month.  Of  course  Manders  sneaked  to 
Mason,  and  Mason  solemnly  took  it  up  as  a  case  of 
theft,  to  get  even  with  us  about  the  rats." 

"That  just  put  Mason  into  our  giddy  hands," 
said  McTurk,  blandly.  "We  were  nice  to  him, 
'cause  he  was  a  new  master  and  wanted  to  win  the 
confidence  of  the  boys.  'Pity  he  draws  inferences, 
though.  Stalky  went  to  his  study  and  pretended  to 
blub,  and  told  Mason  he'd  lead  a  new  life  if  Mason 
would  let  him  off  this  time,  but  Mason  wouldn't. 
'Said  it  was  his  duty  to  report  him  to  the  Head." 

"Vindictive  swine!"  said  Beetle.  "It  was  all 
those  rats  !  Then  I  blubbed,  too,  and  Stalky  con- 
fessed that  he'd  been  a  thief  in  regular  practice  for 
six  years,  ever  since  he  came  to  the  school;  and 
that  I'd  taught  him — a  la  Fagin.  Mason  turned 
white  with  joy.  He  thought  he  had  us  on  toast." 

"Gorgeous!  Gorgeous!"  said  Dick  Four. 
"  We  never  heard  of  this." 

"'Course  not.  Mason  kept  it  jolly  quiet.  He 
wrote  down  all  our  statements  on  impot-paper. 
There  wasn't  anything  he  wouldn't  believe,"  said 
Stalky. 

"  And  handed  it  all  up  to  the  Head,  with  an  ex- 
tempore prayer.  It  took  about  forty  pages, ' '  said 
Beetle.  ' '  I  helped  him  a  lot. ' ' 

[56] 


SLAVES    OF   THE   LAMP. 

"And  then,  you  crazy  idiots?  "  said  Abanazar. 

"  Oh,  we  were  sent  for;  and  Stalky  asked  to 
have  the  '  depositions '  read  out,  and  the  Head 
knocked  him  spinning  into  a  waste-paper  basket. 
Then  he  gave  us  eight  cuts  apiece — welters — for — 
for — takin'  unheard-of  liberties  with  a  new  master. 
I  saw  his  shoulders  shaking  when  we  went  out.  Do 
you  know,"  said  Beetle,  pensively,  "that  Mason 
can't  look  at  us  now  in  second  lesson  without  blush- 
ing? We  three  stare  at  him  sometimes  till  he 
regularly  trickles.  He's  an  awfully  sensitive 
beast." 

"He  read  'Eric,  or  Little  by  Little,'  "  said  Mc- 
Turk;  "so  we  gave  him  'St.  Winifred's,  or  the 
"World  of  School. '  They  spent  all  their  spare  time 
stealing  at  St.  Winifred's,  when  they  weren't  pray- 
ing or  getting  drunk  at  pubs.  Well,  that  was  only 
a  week  ago,  and  the  Head's  a  little  bit  shy  of  us. 
He  called  it  constructive  deviltry.  Stalky  invented 
it  all." 

"  Not  the  least  good  having  a  row  with  a  master 
unless  you  can  make  an  ass  of  him,"  said  Stalky, 
extended  at  ease  on  the  hearth-rug.  "If  Mason 
didn't  know  Number  Five — well,  he's  learnt,  that's 
all.  Now,  my  dearly  beloved  'earers " — Stalky 
curled  his  legs  under  him  and  addressed  the  com- 
pany— "we've  got  that  strong,  perseverin'  man 
King  on  our  hands.  He  went  miles  out  of  his  way 
5  [57] 


STALKY    &    CO. 

to  provoke  a  conflict."  (Here  Stalky  snapped  down 
the  black  silk  domino  and  assumed  the  air  of  a 
judge.)  "He  has  oppressed  Beetle,  McTurk,  and 
me,  privatim  el  seriatim,  one  by  one,  as  he  could 
catch  us.  But  now  he  has  insulted  Number  Five  up 
in  the  music-room,  and  in  the  presence  of  these — 
these  ossifers  of  the  Ninety-third,  wot  look  like 
hairdressers.  Binjimin,  we  must  make  him  cry 
'Capivi!'" 

Stalky's  reading  did  not  include  Browning  or 
Ruskin. 

"And,  besides,"  said  McTurk,  "he's  a  Philis- 
tine, a  basket-hanger.  He  wears  a  tartan  tie. 
Ruskin  says  that  any  man  who  wears  a  tartan  tie 
will,  without  doubt,  be  damned  everlastingly." 

"Bravo,  McTurk,"  said  Tertius;  "I  thought  he 
was  only  a  beast." 

"He's  that,  too,  of  course,  but  he's  worse.  He 
has  a  china  basket  with  blue  ribbons  and  a  pink 
kitten  on  it,  hung  up  in  his  window  to  grow  musk 
in.  You  know  when  I  got  all  that  old  oak  carvin' 
out  of  Bideford  Church,  when  they  were  restoring 
it  (Ruskin  says  that  any  man  who'll  restore  a  church 
is  an  unmitigated  sweep),  and  stuck  it  up  here  with 
glue?  "Well,  King  came  in  and  wanted  to  know 
whether  we'd  done  it  with  a  fret-saw  !  Yah  !  He 
is  the  King  of  basket-hangers  !  " 
.  Down  went  McTurk's  inky  thumb  over  an  im- 

[58] 


SLAVES   OP   THE   LAMP. 

aginary  arena  full  of  bleeding  Kings.  "  Placetne^ 
child  of  a  generous  race  !  "  he  cried  to  Beetle. 

"Well,"  began  Beetle,  doubtfully,  "he  comes 
from  Balliol,  but  I'm  going  to  give  the  beast  a 
chance.  You  see  I  can  always  make  him  hop  with 
some  more  poetry.  He  can't  report  me  to  the 
Head,  because  it  makes  him  ridiculous.  (Stalky's 
quite  right.)  But  he  shall  have  his  chance." 

Beetle  opened  the  book  on  the  table,  ran  his  fin» 
ger  down  a  page,  and  began  at  random: 

' '  Or  who  in  Moscow  toward  the  Czar 
With  the  demurest  of  footfalls, 
Over  the  Kremlin's  pavement  white 
With  serpentine  and  syenite, 
Steps  with  five  other  generals " 

"  That's  no  good.     Try  another,"  said  Stalky. 
"Hold  on   a  shake;   I  know   what's  coming.'' 
McTurk  was  reading  over  Beetle's  shoulder. 

' '  That  simultaneously  take  snuff, 
For  each  to  have  pretext  enough 
And  kerchiefwise  unfold  his  sash, 
Which — softness'  self — is  yet  the  stuff 

(Gummy  !     What  a  sentence  ! ) 

To  hold  fast  where  a  steel  chain  snaps 
And  leave  the  grand  white  neck  no  gash. 

(Full  Stop.)" 

[59] 


STALKY   &    CO. 

"  'Don't  understand  a  word  of  it,"  said  Stalky. 

"More  fool  you!  Construe,"  said  McTurk. 
"  Those  six  bargees  scragged  the  Czar,  and  left 
no  evidence.  Actuin  est  with  King. " 

"He  gave  me  that  book,  too,"  said  Beetle,  lick- 
ing his  lips : 

"  There's  a  great  text  in  G-alatians, 

Once  you  trip  on  it  entails 
Twenty-nine  distinct  damnations, 
One  sure  if  another  fails." 

Then  irrelevantly: 

"Setebos!  Setebos!  andSetebos! 

Thinketh  he  liveth  in  the  cold  of  the  moon." 

"He's  just  come  in  from  dinner,"  said  Dick 
Four,  looking  through  the  window.  "Manders 
minor  is  with  him." 

"  'Safest  place  for  Manders  minor  just  now,"  said 
Beetle. 

"Then  you  chaps  had  better  clear  out,"  said 
Stalky  politely  to  the  visitors.  "  'Tisn't  fair  to 
mix  you  up  in  a  study  row.  Besides,  we  can't 
afford  to  have  evidence." 

"Are  you  going  to  begin  at  once?"  said  Alad- 
din. 

"Immediately,  if  not  sooner,"  said  Stalky,  and 
turned  out  the  gas.  "Strong,  perseverin'  man — • 
King.  Make  him  cry  'Capivi.'  G'way,  Binjimin." 

[60] 


SLAVES    OF    THE    LAMP. 

The  company  retreated  to  their  own  neat  and 
spacious  study  with  expectant  souls. 

"When  Stalky  blows  out  his  nostrils  like  a 
horse,"  said  Aladdin  to  the  Emperor  of  China, 
"  he's  on  the  war-path.  '"Wonder  what  King  will 
get." 

"Beans,"  said  the  Emperor.  "Number  Five 
generally  pays  in  full." 

"Wonder  if  I  ought  to  take  any  notice  of  it 
officially,"  said  Abanazar,  who  had  just  remem- 
bered he  was  a  prefect. 

"It's  none  of  your  business,  Pussy.  Besides,  if 
you  did,  we'd  have  them  hostile  to  us  •  and  we 
shouldn't  be  able  to  do  any  work,"  said  Aladdin. 
"  They've  begun  already." 

Now  that  West- African  war-drum  had  been  made 
to  signal  across  estuaries  and  deltas.  Number  Five 
was  forbidden  to  wake  the  engine  within  earshot 
of  the  school.  But  a  deep,  devastating  drone  filled 
the  passages  as  McTurk  and  Beetle  scientifically 
rubbed  its  top.  Anon  it  changed  to  the  blare  of 
trumpets — of  savage  pursuing  trumpets.  Then, 
as  McTurk  slapped  one  side,  smooth  with  the 
blood  of  ancient  sacrifice,  the  roar  broke  into 
short  coughing  howls  such  as  the  wounded  gorilla 
throws  in  his  native  forest.  These  were  followed 
by  the  wrath  of  King — three  steps  at  a  time,  up 
the  staircase,  with  a  dry  whir  of  the  gown.  Alad« 

[61] 


STALKY    &    CO. 

din  and  company,  listening,  squeaked  with  excite- 
ment as  the  door  crashed  open.  King  stumbled 
into  the  darkness,  and  cursed  those  performers 
by  the  gods  of  Balliol  and  quiet  repose. 

"  Turned  out  for  a  week,"  said  Aladdin,  holding 
the  study  door  on  the  crack.  "  Key  to  be  brought 
down  to  his  study  in  five  minutes.  f  Brutes  !  Bar- 
barians !  Savages  !  Children  ! '  He's  rather  agi- 
tated. 'Arrah,  Patsy,  mind  the  baby,'"  he  sang 
in  a  whisper  as  he  clung  to  the  door-knob,  dancing 
a  noiseless  war-dance. 

King  went  down-stairs  again,  and  Beetle  and  Me- 
Turk  lit  the  gas  to  confer  with  Stalky.  But  Stalky 
had  vanished. 

"  Looks  like  no  end  of  a  mess,"  said  Beetle,  col- 
lecting his  books  and  mathematical  instrument  case. 
"  A  week  in  the  form-rooms  isn't  any  advantage  to 
us." 

"  Yes,  but  don't  you  see  that  Stalky  isn't  here, 
you  owl!"  said  McTurk.  "Take  down  the  key, 
and  look  sorrowful.  King'll  only  jaw  you  for  half 
an  hour.  I'm  going  to  read  in  the  lower  form- 
room." 

"  But  it's  always  me,"  mourned  Beetle. 

"  Wait  till  we  see,"  said  McTurk,  hopefuUy.  "  I 
don't  know  any  more  than  you  do  what  Stalky 
means,  but  it's  something.  Go  down  and  draw 
King's  fire.  You're  used  to  it." 

[62] 


SLAVES    OF   THE   LAMP. 

"No  sooner  had  the  key  turned  in  the  door  than 
the  lid  of  the  coal-box,  which  was  also  the  window- 
seat,  lifted  cautiously.  It  had  been  a  tight  fit,  even 
for  the  lithe  Stalky,  his  head  between  his  knees, 
and  his  stomach  under  his  right  ear.  From  a 
drawer  in  the  table  he  took  a  well-worn  catapult,  a 
handful  of  buckshot,  and  a  duplicate  key  of  the 
study ;  noiselessly  he  raised  the  window  and  kneeled 
by  it,  his  face  turned  to  the  road,  the  wind-sloped 
trees,  the  dark  levels  of  the  Burrows,  and  the  white 
line  of  breakers  falling  nine-deep  along  the  Pebble- 
ridge.  Far  down  the  steep-banked  Devonshire  lane 
he  heard  the  husky  hoot  of  the  carrier's  horn. 
There  was  a  ghost  of  melody  in  it,  as  it  might  have 
been  the  wind  in  a  gin-bottle  essaying  to  sing,  "  It's 
a  way  we  have  in  the  Army." 

Stalky  smiled  a  tight-lipped  smile,  and  at  extreme 
range  opened  fire:  the  old  horse  half  wheeled  in  the 
shafts. 

' '  Where  he  gwaine  tu  ?  "  hiccoughed  Rabbits- 
Eggs.  Another  buckshot  tore  through  the  rotten 
canvas  tilt  with  a  vicious  zipp. 

"ITabet!"  murmured  Stalky,  as  Rabbits-Eggs 
swore  into  the  patient  night,  protesting  that  he  saw 
the  "  dommed  colleger  "  who  was  assaulting  him. 


"  And  so,"  King  was  saying  in  a  high  head  voice 
to  Beetle,  whom  he  had  kept  to  play  with  before 

[63] 


STALKY   &    CO. 

Manders  minor,  well  knowing  that  it  hurts  a  Fifth- 
form  boy  to  be  held  up  to  a  fag's  derision,  "and 
so,  Master  Beetle,  in  spite  of  all  our  verses,  which 
we  are  so  proud  of,  when  we  presume  to  come  into 
direct  conflict  with  even  so  humble  a  representative 
of  authority  as  myself,  for  instance,  we  are  turned 
out  of  our  studies,  are  we  not  ? ' ' 

u  Yes,  sir,"  said  Beetle,  with  a  sheepish  grin  on 
his  lips  and  murder  in  his  heart.  Hope  had  nearly 
left  him,  but  he  clung  to  a  well-established  faith 
that  never  was  Stalky  so  dangerous  as  when  he  was 
invisible. 

"You  are  not  required  to  criticise,  thank  you. 
Turned  out  of  our  studies,  we  are,  just  as  if  we  were 
no  better  than  little  Manders  minor.  Only  inky 
schoolboys  we  are,  and  must  be  treated  as  such." 

Beetle  pricked  up  his  ears,  for  Rabbits-Eggs  was 
swearing  savagely  on  the  road,  and  some  of  the 
language  entered  at  the  upper  sash.  King  believed 
in  ventilation.  He  strode  to  the  window,  gowned 
and  majestic,  very  visible  in  the  gaslight. 

"I  zee  'un  !  I  zee  'un  !  "  roared  Rabbits-Eggs, 
now  that  he  had  found  a  visible  foe — another 
shot  from  the  darkness  above.  "  Yiss,  yeou,  yeou 
long-nosed,  fower-eyed,  gingy-whiskered  beggar  ! 
Yeu'm  tu  old  for  such  goin's  on.  Aie  !  Poultice 
yeour  nose,  I  tall  'ee  !  Poultice  yeour  long  nose  !  " 

Beetle's  heart  leaped  up  within  him.     Somewhere, 

[•*] 


SLAVES   OF   THE   LAMP. 

somehow,  he  knew.  Stalky  moved  behind  these 
manifestations.  There  were  hope  and  the  prospect 
of  revenge.  He  would  embody  the  suggestion 
about  the  nose  in  deathless  verse.  King  threw  up 
the  window,  and  sternly  rebuked  Kabbits-Eggs. 
But  the  carrier  was  beyond  fear  or  fawning.  He 
had  descended  from  the  cart,  and  was  stooping  by 
the  roadside. 

It  all  fell  swiftly  as  a  dream.  Manders  minor 
raised  his  hand  to  his  head  with  a  cry,  as  a  jagged 
flint  cannoned  on  to  some  rich  tree-calf  bindings  in 
the  bookshelf.  Another  quoited  along  the  writing- 
table.  Beetle  made  zealous  feint  to  stop  it,  and  in 
that  endeavor  overturned  a  student's  lamp,  which 
dripped,  via  King's  papers  and  some  choice  books, 
greasily  on  to  a  Persian  rug.  There  was  much 
broken  glass  on  the  window-seat;  the  china  bas- 
ket— McTurk's  aversion — cracked  to  flinders,  had 
dropped  her  musk  plant  and  its  earth  over  the  red 
rep  cushions;  Manders  minor  was  bleeding  pro- 
fusely from  a  cut  on  the  cheek-bone;  and  King, 
using  strange  words,  every  one  of  which  Beetle 
treasured,  ran  forth  to  find  the  school-sergeant, 
that  Rabbits-Eggs  might  be  instantly  cast  into 
jail. 

"  Poor  chap  !  "  said  Beetle,  with  a  false,  feigned 
sympathy.  "  Let  it  bleed  a  little.  That'll  prevent 
apoplexy,"  and  he  held  the  blind  head  skilfully 

[65] 


STALKY   &   CO. 

over  the  table,  and  the  papers  on  the  table,  as  he 
guided  the  howling  Manders  to  the  door. 

Then  did  Beetle,  alone  with  the  wreckage,  return 
good  for  evil.  How,  in  that  office,  a  complete  set 
of  "  Gibbon  "  was  scarred  all  along  the  back  as  by 
a  flint;  how  so  much  black  and  copying  ink  came 
to  be  mingled  with  Manders's  gore  on  the  table- 
cloth; why  the  big  gum-bottle,  unstoppered,  had 
rolled  semicircularly  across  the  floor ;  and  in  what 
manner  the  white  china  door-knob  grew  to  be 
painted  with  yet  more  of  Manders's  young  blood, 
were  matters  which  Beetle  did  not  explain  when  the 
rabid  King  returned  to  find  him  standing  politely 
over  the  reeking  hearth-rug. 

"You  never  told  me  to  go,  sir,"  he  said,  with 
the  air  of  Casabianca,  and  King  consigned  him  to 
the  outer  darkness. 

But  it  was  to  a  boot-cupboard  under  the  staircase 
on  the  ground  floor  that  he  hastened,  to  loose  the 
mirth  that  was  destroying  him.  He  had  not  drawn 
breath  for  a  first  whoop  of  triumph  when  two 
hands  choked  him  dumb. 

"  Go  to  the  dormitory  and  get  me  my  things. 
Bring  'em  to  Number  Five  lavatory.  I'm  still  in 
tights,"  hissed  Stalky,  sitting  on  his  head.  "  Don't 
run.  Walk." 

But  Beetle  staggered  into  the  form-room  next 
door,  and  delegated  his  duty  to  the  yet  unenlight< 

[66] 


SLAVES    OF   THE   LAMP. 

ened  McTurk,  with  an  hysterical  precis  of  the  cam- 
paign thus  far.  So  it  was  McTurk,  of  the  wooden 
visage,  who  brought  the  clothes  from  the  dormi- 
tory while  Beetle  panted  on  a  form.  Then  the 
three  buried  themselves  in  Number  Five  lavatory, 
turned  on  all  the  taps,  filled  the  place  with  steam, 
and  dropped  weeping  into  the  baths,  where  they 
pieced  out  the  war. 

"Moi!  Je!  Ich!  Ego /"  gasped  Stalky.  "I 
waited  till  I  couldn't  hear  myself  think,  while  you 
played  the  drum  !  Hid  in  the  coal-locker — and 
tweaked  Rabbits-Eggs — and  Babbits-Eggs  rocked 
King.  Wasn't  it  beautiful?  Did  you  hear  the 
glass?" 

"Why,  he — he — he,"  shrieked  McTurk,  one 
trembling  finger  pointed  at  Beetle. 

"Why,  I— I— I  was  through  it  all,"  Beetle 
howled;  "  in  his  study,  being  jawed." 

' '  Oh,  my  soul  ! ' '  said  Stalky  with  a  yell,  disap- 
pearing under  water. 

11  The— the  glass  was  nothing.  Manders  minor's 
head's  cut  open.  La — la — lamp  upset  all  over  the 
rug.  Blood  on  the  books  and  papers.  The  gum  ! 
The  gum  !  The  gum  !  The  ink  !  The  ink  !  The 
ink!  Oh,  Lord!" 

Then  Stalky  leaped  out,  all  pink  as  he  was,  and 
shook  Beetle  into  some  sort  of  coherence ;  but  his 
tale  prostrated  them  afresh. 

[67] 


STALKY   &    CO. 

"  I  bunked  for  the  boot-cupboard  the  second  I 
heard  King  go  down-stairs.  Beetle  tumbled  in  on 
top  of  me.  The  spare  key's  hid  behind  the  loose 
board.  There  isn't  a  shadow  of  evidence,"  said 
Stalky.  They  were  all  chanting  together. 

"  And  he  turned  us  out  himself — himself — him- 
sdf!"  This  from  McTurk.  "He  can't  begin  to 
suspect  us.  Oh,  Stalky,  it's  the  loveliest  thing 
we've  ever  done." 

"Gum!  Gum!  Dollops  of  gum!"  shouted 
Beetle,  his  spectacles  gleaming  through  a  sea  of 
lather.  "Ink  and  blood  all  mixed.  I  held  the 
little  beast's  head  all  over  the  Latin  proses  for  Mon- 
day. Golly,  how  the  oil  stunk  !  And  Kabbits- 
Eggs  told  King  to  poultice  his  nose  !  Did  you  hit 
Kabbits-Eggs,  Stalky?" 

"Did  I  jolly  well  not?  Tweaked  him  all  over. 
Did  you  hear  him  curse  ?  Oh,  I  shall  be  sick  in  a 
minute  if  I  don't  stop." 

But  dressing  was  a  slow  process,  because  McTurk 
was  obliged  to  dance  when  he  heard  that  the  musk 
basket  was  broken,  and,  moreover,  Beetle  retailed 
all  King's  language  with  emendations  and  purple 
insets. 

"  Shockin'  !  "  said  Stalky,  collapsing  in  a  helpless 
welter  of  half -hitched  trousers.  "  So  dam'  bad,  too, 
for  innocent  boys  like  us  !  "Wonder  what  they'd 
say  at  'St.  Winifred's,  or  the  "World  of  School.7 

[68] 


SLAVES    OF   THE   LAMP. 

By  gum  !  That  reminds  me  we  owe  the  Lower 
Third  one  for  assaultin'  Beetle  when  he  chivied 
Manders  minor.  Come  on  !  It's  an  alibi,  Samivel; 
and,  besides,  if  we  let  'em  off  they'll  be  worse  next 
time." 

The  Lower  Third  had  set  a  guard  upon  their 
form-room  for  the  space  of  a  full  hour,  which  to  a 
boy  is  a  lifetime.  JSTow  they  were  busy  with  their 
Saturday  evening  businesses — cooking  sparrows 
over  the  gas  with  rusty  nibs;  brewing  unholy 
drinks  in  gallipots;  skinning  moles  with  pocket- 
knives;  attending  to  paper  trays  full  of  silkworms, 
or  discussing  the  iniquities  of  their  elders  with  a 
freedom,  fluency,  and  point  that  would  have  amazed 
their  parents.  The  blow  fell  without  warning. 
Stalky  upset  a  form  crowded  with  small  boys 
among  their  own  cooking  utensils,  McTurk  raided 
the  untidy  lockers  as  a  terrier  digs  at  a  rabbit-hole, 
while  Beetle  poured  ink  upon  such  heads  as  he 
could  not  appeal  to  with  a  Smith's  Classical  Dic- 
tionary. Three  brisk  minutes  accounted  for  many 
silkworms,  pet  larvae,  French  exercises,  school  caps, 
half-prepared  bones  and  skulls,  and  a  dozen  pots 
of  home-made  sloe  jam.  It  was  a  great  wreck- 
age, and  the  form-room  looked  as  though  three 
conflicting  tempests  had  smitten  it. 

"Phew!"  said  Stalky,  drawing  breath  outside 
the  door  (a,mid  groans  of  "  Oh,  you  beastly  ca-ads  ! 

[69] 


STALKY   &    CO. 

You  think  yourselves  awful  funny,'*1  and  so  forth). 
"  ThaCs  all  right.  Never  let  the  sun  go  down  upon 
your  wrath.  Rummy  little  devils,  fags.  Got  no 
notion  o'  combinin'." 

"  Six  of  'em  sat  on  my  head  when  I  went  in  af- 
ter Manders  minor,"  said  Beetle.  "I  warned  'em 
what  they'd  get,  though. ' ' 

"Everybody  paid  in  full — beautiful  feelin',"  said 
McTurk,  absently,  as  they  strolled  along  the  corri- 
dor. "  Don't  think  we'd  better  say  much  about 
King,  though,  do  you,  Stalky?  " 

"Not  much.  Our  line  is  injured  innocence,  of 
course — same  as  when  the  Sergeant  reported  us  on 
suspicion  of  smoking  in  the  bunkers.  If  I  hadn't 
thought  of  buyin'  the  pepper  and  spillin'  it  all  over 
our  clothes,  he'd  have  smelt  us.  King  was  gha-astly 
facetious  about  that.  'Called  us  bird -stuff  ers  in  form 
for  a  week." 

"Ah,  King  hates  the  Natural  History  Society 
because  little  Hartopp  is  president.  Mustn't  do 
anything  in  the  Coll.  without  glorifyin'  King," 
said  McTurk.  "But  he  must  be  a  putrid  ass,  you 
know,  to  suppose  at  our  time  o'  life  we'd  go  out 
and  stuff  birds  like  fags." 

"Poor  old  King!"  said  Beetle.  "He's  awf'ly 
unpopular  in  Common-room,  and  they'll  chaff  his 
head  off  about  Rabbits-Eggs.  Golly  !  How 
lovely  !  How  beautiful !  How  holy  !  But  you 

[TO] 


SLAVES    OF   THE   LAMP. 

should  have  seen  his  face  when  the  first  rock  came 
in  !     And  the  earth  from  the  basket  !  " 

So  they  were  all  stricken  helpless  for  five  minutes. 

They  repaired  at  last  to  Abanazar's  study,  and 
were  received  reverently. 

"What's  the  matter?"  said  Stalky,  quick  to 
realize  new  atmospheres. 

"  You  know  jolly  well,"  said  Abanazar.  "  You'll 
be  expelled  if  you  get  caught.  King  is  a  gibbering 
maniac." 

"Who?  Which?  What?  Expelled  for  how? 
We  only  played  the  war-drum.  We've  got  turned 
out  for  that  already." 

"Do  you  chaps  mean  to  say  you  didn't  make 
Rabbits-Eggs  drunk  and  bribe  him  to  rock  King's 
rooms?  " 

"Bribe  him?  No,  that  I'll  swear  we  didn't," 
said  Stalky,  with  a  relieved  heart,  for  he  loved  not 
to  tell  lies.  "  What  a  low  mind  you've  got,  Pussy  ! 
We've  been  down  having  a  bath.  Did  Babbits- 
Eggs  rock  King?  Strong,  perseverin'  man  King? 
Shockin'  !  " 

"  Awf 'ly.  King's  frothing  at  the  mouth. 
There's  bell  for  prayers.  Come  on." 

"Wait  a  sec,"  said  Stalky,  continuing  the  con- 
versation in  a  loud  and  cheerful  voice,  as  they  de- 
scended the  stairs.  "  What  did  Rabbits-Eggs  rock 
King  for?" 

[71] 


STALKY   &    CO. 

"I  know,"  said  Beetle,  as  they  passed  King's 
open  door.  "  I  was  in  his  study." 

"  Hush,  you  ass  !  ':  hissed  the  Emperor  of 
China.  "Oh,  he's  gone  down  to  prayers,"  said 
Beetle,  watching  the  shadow  of  the  house-master 
on  the  wall.  "  Rabbits-Eggs  was  only  a  bit  drunk, 
swearin'  at  his  horse,  and  King  jawed  him  through 
the  window,  and  then,  of  course,  he  rocked 
King." 

" Do  you  mean  to  say,"  said  Stalky,  ''that  King 
began  it?" 

King  was  behind  them,  and  every  well-weighed 
word  went  up  the  staircase  like  an  arrow.  "  I  can 
only  swear,"  said  Beetle,  "that  King  cursed  llze  a 
bargee.  Simply  disgustin'.  I'm  goin'  to  write  to 
my  father  about  it." 

"Better  report  it  to  Mason,"  suggested  Stalky. 
"He  knows  our  tender  consciences.  Hold  on  a 
shake.  I've  got  to  tie  my  bootlace." 

The  other  study  hurried  forward.  They  did  not 
wish  to  be  dragged  into  stage  asides  of  this  nature. 
So  it  was  left  to  McTurk  to  sum  up  the  situation 
beneath  the  guns  of  the  enemy. 

"You  see,"  said  the  Irishman,  hanging  on  the 
banister,  "he  begins  by  bullying  little  chaps;  then 
he  bullies  the  big  chaps;  then  he  bullies  some  one 
who  isn't  connected  with  the  College,  and  then  he 
catches  it.  Serves  him  jolly  well  right.  .  .  . 

[72] 


SLAVES    OF   THE   LAMP. 

I  beg  your  pardon,  sir.     I  didn't  see  you  were  com- 
ing down  the  staircase." 

The  black  gown  tore  past  like  a  thunder-storm, 
and  in  its  wake,  three  abreast,  arms  linked,  the 
Aladdin  company  rolled  up  the  big  corridor  to 
prayers,  singing  with  most  innocent  intention : 

"Arrah,  Patsy,  mind  the  baby!    Arrah,  Patsy,  raind  the 

child! 

Wrap  him  up  in  an  overcoat,  he's  surely  goin'  wild ! 
Arrah,   Patsy,   mind  the  baby;   just  ye  mind  the  child 

awhile ! 
He'll  kick  an'  bite  an'  cry  all  night !    Arrah,  Patsy,  mind 

the  child!" 


178] 


AN    UNSAVORY    INTERLUDE. 

IT  was  a  maiden  aunt  of  Stalky  who  sent  him 
both  books,  with  the  inscription,  "  To  dearest 
Artie,  on  his  sixteenth  birthday;"  it  was  McTurk 
who  ordered  their  hypothecation;  and  it  was 
Beetle,  returned  from  Bideford,  who  flung  them  on 
the  window-sill  of  Number  Five  study  with  news 
that  Bastable  would  advance  but  ninepence  on  the 
two;  "  Eric;  or,  Little  by  Little,"  being  almost  as 
great  a  drug  as  "St.  Winifred's."  "An'  I  don't 
think  much  of  your  aunt.  We're  nearly  out  of 
cartridges,  too — Artie,  dear." 

Whereupon  Stalky  rose  up  to  grapple  with  him, 
but  McTurk  sat  on  Stalky 's  head,  calling  him  a 
"pure-minded  boy"  till  peace  was  declared.  As 
they  were  grievously  in  arrears  with  a  Latin  prose, 
as  it  was  a  blazing  July  afternoon,  and  as  they 
ought  to  have  been  at  a  house  cricket-match,  they 
began  to  renew  their  acquaintance,  intimate  and 
unholy,  with  the  volumes. 

"  Here  we  are  !  "  said  McTurk.  "  '  Corporal 
punishment  produced  on  Eric  the  worst  effects.  He 

[74] 


AN   UNSAVORY   INTERLUDE. 

burned  not  with  remorse  or  regret ' — make  a  note  o' 
that,  Beetle — '  but  with  shame  and  violent  indigna- 
tion. He  glared ' — oh,  naughty  Eric  !  Let's  get 
to  where  he  goes  in  for  drink." 

"  Hold  on  half  a  shake.  Here's  another  sample. 
*  The  Sixth,'  he  says,  '  is  the  palladium  of  all  public 
schools.'  But  this  lot" — Stalky  rapped  the  gilded 
book — "can't  prevent  fellows  drinkin'  and  stealin', 
an'  lettin'  fags  out  of  window  at  night,  an' — an' 
doin'  what  they  please.  Golly,  what  we've  missed 
—not  goin'  to  St.  Winifred's  !  .  .  ." 

"I'm  sorry  to  see  any  boys  of  my  house  taking 
so  little  interest  in  their  matches. ' ' 

Mr.  Prout  could  move  very  silently  if  he  pleased, 
though  that  is  no  merit  in  a  boy's  eyes.  He  had 
flung  open  the  study-door  without  knocking — an- 
other sin — and  looked  at  them  suspiciously.  "  Yery 
sorry,  indeed,  I  am.  to  see  you  frowsting  in  your 
studies." 

"We've  been  out  ever  since  dinner,  sir,"  said 
McTurk  wearily.  One  house-match  is  just  like  an- 
other, and  their  "ploy  "  of  that  week  happened  to 
be  rabbit-shooting  with  saloon-pistols. 

"I  can't  see  a  ball  when  it's  coming,  sir,"  said 
Beetle.  "I've  had  my  gig-lamps  smashed  at  the 
Nets  till  I  got  excused.  I  wasn't  any  good 
even  as  a  fag,  then,  sir." 

"  Tuck  is  probably  your  form.  Tuck  and  brew- 
[75] 


STALKY   &    CO. 

ing.     Why  can't  you  three  take  any  interest  in  the 
honor  of  your  house  ?  ' ' 

They  had  heard  that  phrase  till  they  were 
wearied.  The  "honor  of  the  house"  was  Prout's 
weak  point,  and  they  knew  well  how  to  flick  him 
on  the  raw. 

"  If  you  order  us  to  go  down,  sir,  of  course  we'll 
go,"  said  Stalky,  with  maddening  politeness.  But 
Prout  knew  better  than  that.  He  had  tried  the  ex- 
periment once  at  a  big  match,  when  the  three,  self- 
isolated,  stood  to  attention  for  half  an  hour  in  full 
view  of  all  the  visitors,  to  whom  fags,  subsidized 
for  that  end,  pointed  them  out  as  victims  of  Prout's 
tyranny.  And  Prout  was  a  sensitive  man. 

In  the  infinitely  petty  confederacies  of  the  Com- 
mon-room, King  and  Macrea,  fellow  house-masters, 
had  borne  it  in  upon  him  that  by  games,  and  games 
alone,  was  salvation  wrought.  Boys  neglected  were 
boys  lost.  They  must  be  disciplined.  Left  to  him- 
self, Prout  would  have  made  a  sympathetic  house- 
master; but  he  was  never  so  left,  and  with  the 
devilish  insight  of  youth,  the  boys  knew  to  whom 
they  were  indebted  for  his  zeal. 

"  Must  we  go  down,  sir  ?  "  said  McTurk. 

"  I  don't  want  to  order  you  to  do  what  a  right- 
thinking  boy  should  do  gladly.  I'm  sorry."  And 
he  lurched  out  with  some  hazy  impression  that  he 
had  sown  good  seed  on  poor  ground. 

[761 


AN   UNSAVOKY   INTERLUDE. 

"  Now  what  does  he  suppose  is  the  use  of  that?  " 
said  Beetle. 

"  Oh,  he's  cracked.  King  jaws  him  in  Common- 
room  about  not  keepin'  us  up  to  the  mark,  anT 
Macrea  burbles  about  l  dithcipline, '  an'  old  Heffy 
sits  between  'em  sweatin'  big  drops.  I  heard  Oke 
(the  Common-room  butler)  talking  to  Richards 
(Prout's  house-servant)  about  it  down  in  the  base- 
ment the  other  day  when  I  went  down  to  bag  some 
bread,"  said  Stalky. 

"What  did  Oke  say?"  demanded  McTurk, 
throwing  "  Eric  "  into  a  corner. 

"  Oh,  he  said,  '  They  make  more  nise  nor  a  nest 
full  o'  jackdaws,  an'  half  of  it  like  we'd  no  ears  to 
our  heads  that  waited  on  'em.  They  talks  over  old 
Prout — what  he've  done  an'  left  undone  about  his 
boys.  An'  how  their  boys  be  fine  boys,  an'  his'n 
be  dom  bad.'  "Well,  Oke  talked  like  that,  you 
know,  and  Richards  got  awf'ly  wrathy.  He  has  a 
down  on  King  for  something  or  other.  Wonder 
why?" 

"Why,  King  talks  about  Prout  in  form-room — 
makes  allusions,  an'  all  that — only  half  the  chaps 
are  such  asses  they  can't  see  what  he's  drivin'  at. 
And  d'you  remember  what  he  said  about  the  '  Cas- 
ual House '  last  Tuesday  ?  He  meant  us.  They  say 
he  says  perfectly  beastly  things  to  his  own  house, 
making  fun  of  Prout's,"  said  Beetle. 

[77] 


STALKY   &    CO. 

[  ""Well,  we  didn't  come  here  to  mix  up  in  their 
rows,"  McTurk  said  wrathfully.  "Who'll  bathe 
after  call-over?  King's  takin'  it  in  the  cricket- 
field.  Come  on."  Turkey  seized  his  straw  and  led 
the  way. 

They  reached  the  sun-blistered  pavilion  over 
against  the  gray  Pebbleridge  just  before  roll-call, 
and,  asking  no  questions,  gathered  from  King's 
voice  and  manner  that  his  house  was  on  the  road  to 
victory. 

"  Ah,  ha  !  "  said  he,  turning  to  show  the  light  of 
his  countenance.  "  Here  we  have  the  ornaments  of 
the  Casual  House  at  last.  You  consider  cricket  be- 
neath you,  I  believe" — the  crowd,  flannelled,  snig- 
gered— "  and  from  what  I  have  seen  this  afternoon. 
I  fancy  many  others  of  your  house  hold  the  same 
view.  And  may  I  ask  what  you  purpose  to  do  with 
your  noble  selves  till  tea-time  ?  " 

"  Going  down  to  bathe,  sir,"  said  Stalky. 

' (  And  whence  this  sudden  zeal  for  cleanliness  ? 
There  is  nothing  about  you  that  particularly  sug- 
gests it.  Indeed,  so  far  as  I  remember — I  may  be 
at  fault — but  a  short  time  ago — 

"  Five  years,  sir,"  said  Beetle  hotly. 

King  scowled.  "  One  of  you  was  that  thing 
called  a  water-funk.  Yes,  a  water-funk.  So  now 
you  wish  to  wash  ?  It  is  well.  Cleanliness  never 
injured  a  boy  or — a  house.  We  will  proceed  to 

[78] 


AN   UNSAVOKY   INTEKLUDE. 

business,"  and  he  addressed  himself  to  the  call-over 
board. 

"What  the  deuce  did  you  say  anything  to  him 
for,  Beetle  ?  ' '  said  McTurk  angrily,  as  they  strolled 
towards  the  big,  open  sea-baths. 

"  'T wasn't  fair — remindin'  one  of  bein'  a  water- 
funk.  My  first  term,  too.  Heaps  of  chaps  are — 
when  they  can't  swim." 

"Yes,  you  ass;  but  he  saw  he'd  fetched  you. 
You  ought  never  to  answer  King. ' ' 

"  But  it  Avasn't  fair,  Stalky." 

"My  Hat!  You've  been  here  six  years,  and 
you  expect  fairness.  Well,  }7ou  are  a  dithering 
idiot." 

A  knot  of  King's  boys,  also  bound  for  the  baths, 
hailed  them,  beseeching  them  to  wash — for  the 
honor  of  their  house. 

"  That's  what  comes  of  King's  jawin'  and  mess- 
in'.  Those  young  animals  wouldn't  have  thought 
of  it  unless  he'd  put  it  into  their  heads.  Now 
they'll  be  funny  about  it  for  weeks,"  said  Stalky. 
"  Don't  take  any  notice." 

The  boys  came  nearer,  shouting  an  opprobrious 
word.  At  last  they  moved  to  windward,  ostenta- 
tiously holding  their  noses. 

"  That's  pretty,"  said  Beetle.  "  They'll  be  say- 
in'  our  house  stinks  next." 

When  they  returned  from  the  baths,  damp- 
[79] 


STALKY   &    CO. 

headed,  languid,  at  peace  with  the  world,  Beetle's 
forecast  came  only  too  true.  They  were  met  in  the 
corridor  by  a  fag — a  common,  Lower-Second  fag — 
who  at  arm's  length  handed  them  a  carefully 
wrapped  piece  of  soap  "with  the  compliments  of 
King's  house." 

"Hold  on,"  said  Stalky,  checking  immediate  at- 
tack. "Who  put  you  up  to  this,  Nixon?  Eattray 
and  White?  (Those  were  two  leaders  in  King's 
house.)  Thank  you.  There's  no  answer." 

"  Oh,  it's  too  sickening  to  have  this  kind  o'  rot 
shoved  on  to  a  chap.  What's  the  sense  of  it? 
What's  the  fun  of  it  ?  "  said  McTurk. 

"  It  will  go  on  to  the  end  of  the  term,  though," 
Beetle  wagged  his  head  sorrowfully.  He  had  worn 
many  jests  threadbare  on  his  own  account. 

In  a  few  days  it  became  an  established  legend  of 
the  school  that  Prout's  house  did  not  wash  and  were 
therefore  noisome.  Mr.  King  was  pleased  to  smile 
succulently  in  form  when  one  of  his  boys  drew 
aside  from  Beetle  with  certain  gestures. 

"  There  seems  to  be  some  disability  attaching  to 
you,  my  Beetle,  or  else  why  should  Burton  major 
withdraw,  so  to  speak,  the  hem  of  his  garments  ?  I 
confess  I  am  still  in  the  dark.  Will  some  one  be 
good  enough  to  enlighten  me?  " 

Naturally,  he  was  enlightened  by  half  the  form. 

u  Extraordinary  !  Most  extraordinary  !  How- 
[80] 


AN   UNSAVOKY   INTEELUDE. 

ever,  each  house  has  its  traditions,  with  which  1 
would  not  for  the  world  interfere.  We  have  a  pre- 
judice in  favor  of  washing.  Go  on,  Beetle — from 
'jugurtha  tamen ' — and,  if  you  can,  avoid  the  more 
flagrant  forms  of  guessing." 

Prout's  house  was  furious  because  Macrea's  and 
Hartopp's  houses  joined  King's  to  insult  them. 
They  called  a  house-meeting  after  dinner — an  ex- 
cited and  angry  meeting  of  all  save  the  prefects, 
whose  dignity,  though  they  sympathized,  did  not 
allow  them  to  attend.  They  read  ungrammatical 
resolutions,  and  made  speeches  beginning,  "  Gentle- 
men, we  have  met  on  this  occasion,"  and  ending 
with,  "It's  a  beastly  shame,"  precisely  as  houses 
have  done  since  time  and  schools  began. 

Number  Five  study  attended,  with  its  usual  air  of 
bland  patronage.  At  last  McTurk,  of  the  lanthorn 
jaws,  delivered  himself: 

"  You  jabber  and  jaw  and  burble,  and  that's 
about  all  you  can  do.  What's  the  good  of  it? 
King's  house'll  only  gloat  because  they've  drawn 
you,  and  King  will  gloat,  too.  Besides,  that  reso- 
lution of  Orrin's  is  chock-full  of  bad  grammar,  and 
King'll  gloat  over  that." 

1 '  I  thought  you  an'  Beetle  would  put  it  right, 
an' — an'  we'd  post  it  in  the  corridor,"  said  the 
composer  meekly. 

"  Par  si  je  le  connai.  I'm  not  goin'  to  meddle 
[81] 


STALKY   &    CO. 

with  the  biznai,"  said  Beetle.     "It's  a  gloat  fot 
King's  house.     Turkey's  quite  right." 

"  Well,  won't  Stalky,  then?  " 

But  Stalky  puffed  out  his  cheeks  and  squinted 
down  his  nose  in  the  style  of  Panurge,  and  all  he 
said  was,  "  Oh,  you  abject  burblers  !  " 

"You're  three  beastly  scabs  !  "  was  the  instant 
retort  of  the  democracy,  and  they  went  out  amid 
execrations. 

"  This  is  piffling,"  said  McTurk.  "  Let's  get  our 
sallies,  and  go  and  shoot  bunnies." 

Three  saloon-pistols,  with  a  supply  of  bulleted 
breech-caps,  were  stored  in  Stalky's  trunk,  and  this 
trunk  was  in  their  dormitory,  and  their  dormitory 
was  a  three-bed  attic  one,  opening  out  of  a  ten-bed 
establishment,  which,  in  turn,  communicated  with 
the  great  range  of  dormitories  that  ran  practically 
from  one  end  of  the  College  to  the  other.  Macrea's 
house  lay  next  to  Prout's,  King's  next  to  Macrea's, 
and  Hartopp's  beyond  that  again.  Carefully  locked 
doors  divided  house  from  house,  but  each  house,  in 
its  internal  arrangements — the  College  had  origi- 
nally been  a  terrace  of  twelve  large  houses — was  a 
replica  of  the  next;  one  straight  roof  covering  all. 

They  found  Stalky's  bed  drawn  out  from  the  wall 
to  the  left  of  the  dormer  window,  and  the  latter 
end  of  Kichards  protruding  from  a  two-foot-square 
cupboard  in  the  wall. 

[82] 


AN   UNSAVOEY   INTEKLUDE. 

"What's  all  this?  I've  never  noticed  it  before. 
What  are  you  tryin'  to  do,  Fatty?  " 

"Fillin'  basins,  Muster  Corkran."  Richards's 
voice  was  hollow  and  muffled.  "They've  been 
savin'  me  trouble.  Yiss." 

"  'Looks  like  it,"  said  McTurk.  "  Hi !  You'll 
stick  if  you  don't  take  care." 

Richards  backed  puffing. 

"  I  can't  rache  un.  Yiss,  'tess  a  turncock,  Mus- 
ter McTurk.  They've  took  an'  runned  all  the 
watter-pipes  a  storey  higher  in  the  houses — runned 
'em  all  along  under  the  'ang  of  the  heaves,  like. 
Runned  'em  in  last  holidays.  /  can't  rache  the 
turncock." 

"Let  me  try,"  said  Stalky,  diving  into  the 
aperture. 

"  Slip  'ee  to  the  left,  then,  Muster  Corkran.  Slip 
'ee  to  the  left,  an'  feel  in  the  dark." 

To  the  left  Stalky  wriggled,  and  saw  a  long  line 
of  lead  pipe  disappearing  up  a  triangular  tunnel, 
whose  roof  was  the  rafters  and  boarding  of  the  col- 
lege roof,  whose  floor  was  sharp-edged  joists,  and 
whose  side  was  the  rough  studding  of  the  lath  and 
plaster  wall  under  the  dormer. 

"  Rummy  show.     How  far  does  it  go  ?  " 

"  Right  along,  Muster  Corkran — right  along  from 
end  to  end.  Her  runs  under  the  'ang  of  the  heaves. 
Have  'ee  rached  the  stopcock  yet  ?  Mr.  King  got 

[83] 


STALKY    &    CO. 

un  put  in  to  save  us  carryin'  watter  from  down- 
stairs to  fill  the  basins.  No  place  for  a  lusty  man 
like  old  Richards.  I'm  tu  thickabout  to  go  fer- 
ritin'.  Thank  'ee,  Muster  Corkran." 

The  water  squirted  through  the  tap  just  inside 
the  cupboard,  and,  having  filled  the  basins,  the 
grateful  Richards  waddled  away. 

The  boys  sat  round-eyed  on  their  beds  consider- 
ing the  possibilities  of  this  trove.  Two  floors  below 
them  they  could  hear  the  hum  of  the  angry  house; 
for  nothing  is  so  still  as  a  dormitory  in  mid-after- 
noon of  a  midsummer  term. 

"It  has  been  papered  over  till  now."  McTurk 
examined  the  little  door.  '  If  we'd  only  known 
before  !  " 

"  I  vote  we  go  down  and  explore.  No  one  will 
come  up  this  time  o'  day.  We  needn't  keep  cave." 

They  crawled  in,  Stalky  leading,  drew  the  door 
behind  them,  and  on  all  fours  embarked  on  a  dark 
and  dirty  road  full  of  plaster,  odd  shavings,  and  all 
the  raffle  that  builders  leave  in  the  waste  room  of  a 
house.  The  passage  was  perhaps  three  feet  wide, 
and,  except  for  the  struggling  light  round  the  edges 
of  the  cupboards  (there  was  one  to  each  dormer), 
almost  pitchy  dark. 

"Here's  Macrea's  house,"  said  Stalky,  his  eye  at 
the  crack  of  the  third  cupboard.  ' '  I  can  see 
Barnes's  name  on  his  trunk.  Don't  make  such  a 

[84] 


AN   UNSAVORY    INTERLUDE. 

row,  Beetle  !  "We  can  get  right  to  the  end  of  the 
Coll.  Come  on  !  ...  We're  in  King's  house 
now — I  can  see  a  bit  of  Eattray's  trunk.  How 
these  beastly  boards  hurt  one's  knees  !  "  They 
heard  his  nails  scraping  on  plaster. 

"That's  the  ceiling  below.  Look  out!  If  we 
smashed  that  the  plaster  'ud  fall  down  in  the  lower 
dormitory,"  said  Beetle. 

"  Let's,"  whispered  McTurk. 

"An5  be  collared  first  thing?  Not  much.  Why, 
I  can  shove  my  hand  ever  so  far  up  between  these 
boards." 

Stalky  thrust  an  arm  to  the  elbow  between  the 
joists. 

"  No  good  stay  in'  here.  I  vote  we  go  back  and 
talk  it  over.  It's  a  crummy  place.  'Must  say  I'm 
grateful  to  King  for  his  water- works." 

They  crawled  out,  brushed  one  another  clean, 
slid  the  saloon-pistols  down  a  trouser-leg,  and  hur- 
ried forth  to  a  deep  and  solitary  Devonshire  lane  in 
whose  flanks  a  boy  might  sometimes  slay  a  young 
rabbit.  They  threw  themselves  down  under  the 
rank  elder  bushes,  and  began  to  think  aloud. 

"You  know,"  said  Stalky  at  last,  sighting  at  a 
distant  sparrow,  "  we  could  hide  our  sallies  in  there 
like  anything. ' ' 

"Huh  !"  Beetle  snorted,  choked,  and  gurgled. 
He  had  been  silent  since  they  left  the  dormitory. 

[85] 


STALKY   &    CO. 

"  Did  you  ever  read  a  book  called  '  The  History  of 
a  House '  or  something  ?  I  got  it  out  of  the  library 
the  other  day.  A  French  woman  wrote  it — Violet 
somebody.  But  it's  translated,  you  know ;  and  it's 
very  interestin'.  Tells  you  how  a  house  is  built." 

"  Well,  if  you're  in  a  sweat  to  find  out  that,  you 
can  go  down  to  the  new  cottages  they're  building 
<or  the  coastguard. ' ' 

"My  Hat!  I  will."  He  felt  in  his  pockets. 
"  Give  me  tuppence,  some  one." 

"Rot!  Stay  here,  and  don't  mess  about  in  the 
sun." 

"  Gi'  me  tuppence." 

"  I  say,  Beetle,  you  aren't  stuffy  about  anything, 
are  you  ? ' '  said  McTurk,  handing  over  the  cop- 
pers. His  tone  was  serious,  for  though  Stalky 
often,  and  McTurk  occasionally,  manoeuvred  on  his 
own  account,  Beetle  had  never  been  known  to  do 
so  in  all  the  history  of  the  confederacy. 

"No,  I'm  not.     I'm  thinking." 

""Well,  we'll  come,  too,"  said  Stalky,  with  a 
general's  suspicion  of  his  aides. 

"  Don't  want  you." 

"  Oh,  leave  him  alone.  He's  been  taken  worse 
with  a  poem,"  said  McTurk.  "He'll  go  burbling 
down  to  the  Pebbleridge  and  spit  it  all  up  in  the 
study  when  he  comes  back." 

"Then  why  did  he  want  the  tuppence,  Turkey? 
[86] 


AN   UNSAY OR Y   INTERLUDE. 

He's  gettin'  too  beastly  independent.  Hi  !  There's 
a  bunny.  No,  it  ain't.  It's  a  cat,  by  Jove  !  You 
plug  first." 

Twenty  minutes  later  a  boy  with  a  straw  hat  at 
the  back  of  his  head,  and  his  hands  in  his  pockets, 
was  staring  at  workmen  as  they  moved  about  a 
half -finished  cottage.  He  produced  some  ferocious 
tobacco,  and  was  passed  from  tho  forecourt  into  the 
interior,  where  he  asked  many  questions. 

"Well,  let's  have  .your  beastly  epic,"  said  Tur- 
key, as  they  burst  into  the  study,  to  find  Beetle 
deep  in  Yiollet-le-Duc  and  some  drawings.  "  We've 
had  no  end  of  a  lark. ' ' 

"Epic?  What  epic?  I've  been  down  to  the 
coastguard." 

"No  epic?  Then  we  will  slay  you,  O  Beatle," 
said  Stalky,  moving  to  the  attack.  "  You've  got 
something  up  your  sleeve.  /  know,  when  you  talk 
in  that  tone  ! ' ' 

"  Your  Uncle  Beetle  "  —with  an  attempt  to  imi- 
tate Stalky's  war- voice — "  is  a  great  man." 

"Oh,  no;  he  jolly  well  isn't  anything  of  the 
kind.  You  deceive  yourself,  Beetle.  Scrag  him,, 
Turkey  !  " 

"A  great  man,"  Beetle  gurgled  from  the  floor. 
"  You  are  futile  —  look  out  for  my  tie!  —  futile 
burblers.  I  am  the  Great  Man.  I  gloat.  Ouch  I 
Hear  me  !  " 

7  [87] 


STALKY    &    CO. 

"  Beetle,  de-ah  "  —Stalky  dropped  unreservedly 
on  Beetle's  chest — "  we  love  you,  an'  you're  a  poet. 
If  I  ever  said  you  were  a  doggaroo,  I  apologize; 
but  you  know  as  well  as  we  do  that  you  can't  do 
anything  by  yourself  without  mucking  it. ' ' 

"  I've  got  a  notion." 

"  And  you'll  spoil  the  whole  show  if  you  don't 
tell  your  Uncle  Stalky.  Cough  it  up,  ducky,  and 
we'll  see  what  we  can  do.  Notion,  you  fat  im- 
postor— I  knew  you  had  a  notion  when  you  went 
away!  Turkey  said  it  was  a  poem. " 

"I've  found  out  how  houses  are  built.  Le' me 
get  up.  The  floor-joists  of  one  room  are  the  ceiling- 
joists  of  the  room  below." 

"  Don't  be  so  filthy  technical." 

"Well,  the  man  told  me.  The  floor  is  laid  on 
top  of  those  joists — those  boards  on  edge  that  we 
crawled  over — but  the  floor  stops  at  a  partition. 
Well,  if  you  get  behind  a  partition,  same  as  you  did 
in  the  attic,  don't  you  see  that  you  can  shove  any- 
thing you  please  under  the  floor  between  the  floor- 
boards and  the  lath  and  plaster  of  the  ceiling 
below?  Look  here.  I've  drawn  it." 

He  produced  a  rude  sketch,  sufficient  to  enlighten 
the  allies.  There  is  no  part  of  the  modern  school 
curriculum  that  deals  with  architecture,  and  none 
of  them  had  yet  reflected  whether  floors  and  ceil- 
ings were  hollow  or  solid.  Outside  his  own  imme< 

[88] 


AN   UNSAVOBY   INTERLUDE. 

diate  interests  the  boy  is  as  ignorant  as  the  savage 
he  so  admires;  but  he  has  also  the  savage's  re- 
source. 

"  I  see,"  said  Stalky.  "  I  shoved  ray  hand  there. 
An'  then?" 

"An'  then  .  .  .  They've  been  calling  us 
stinkers,  you  know.  "We  might  shove  somethin' 
under — sulphur,  or  something  that  stunk  pretty 
bad — an'  stink  'em  out.  I  know  it  can  be  done 
somehow."  Beetle's  eyes  turned  to  Stalky  hand- 
ling the  diagrams. 

"Stinks?"  said  Stalky  interrogatively.  Then 
his  face  grew  luminous  with  delight.  "By  gum  ! 
I've  got  it.  Horrid  stinks  !  Turkey  !  "  He  leaped 
at  the  Irishman.  "  This  afternoon — just  after 
Beetle  went  away  !  She's  the  very  thing  !  " 

"Come  to  my  arms,  my  beamish  boy,"  caroled 
McTurk,  and  they  fell  into  each  other's  arms  danc- 
ing. "Oh,  frabjous  day!  Calloo,  callay  !  She 
wiU  !  She  will  !  " 

"  Hold  on,"  said  Beetle.     "  I  don't  understand." 

"Dearr  man  !  It  shall,  though.  Oh,  Artie,  my 
pure-souled  youth,  let  us  tell  our  darling  Reggie 
about  Pestiferous  Stinkadores. " 

"  Not  until  after  call-over.     Come  on  !  " 

"  I  say,"  said  Orrin,  stiffly,  as  they  fell  into  their 
places  along  the  walls  of  the  gymnasium.     "  The 
house  are  goin'  to  hold  another  meeting." 
7  [89] 


STALKY    &    CO. 

"Hold  away,  then."  Stalky 's  mind  was  else- 
where. 

"  It's  about  you  three  this  time." 

"All  right,  give  'em  my  love  .  .  .  Here, 
sir,"  and  he  tore  down  the  corridor. 

Gamboling  like  kids  at  play,  with  bounds  and 
sidestarts,  with  caperings  and  curvetings,  they  led 
the  -almost  bursting  Beetle  to  the  rabbit-lane,  and 
from  under  a  pile  of  stones  drew  forth  the  new-slain 
corpse  of  a  cat.  Then  did  Beetle  see  the  inner 
meaning  of  what  had  gone  before,  and  lifted  up  his 
voice  in  thanksgiving  for  that  the  world  held  war- 
riors so  wise  as  Stalky  and  McTurk. 

"Well-nourished  old  lady,  ain't  she?"  said 
Stalky.  "  How  long  d'you  suppose  it'll  take  her  to 
get  a  bit  whiff  in  a  confined  space?  " 

"Bit  whiff  !  What  a  coarse  brute  you  are  !  " 
said  McTurk.  "Can't  a  poor  pussy-cat  get  under 
King's  dormitory  floor  to  die  without  your  pursuin' 
her  with  your  foul  innuendoes?  " 

"What  did  she  die  under  the  floor  for?"  said 
Beetle,  looking  to  the  future. 

"Oh,  they  won't  worry  about  that  when  they 
find  her,"  said  Stalky. 

"A  cat  may  look  at  a  king."  McTurk  rolled 
down  the  bank  at  his  own  jest.  ' '  Pussy,  you  don't 
know  how  useful  you're  goin'  to  be  to  three  pure- 
souled,  high-minded  boys." 

[90] 


AN    UNSAVORY   INTERLUDE. 

"  They'll  have  to  take  up  the  floor  for  her,  same 
as  they  did  in  Number  Nine  when  the  rat  croaked. 
Big  medicine — heap  big  medicine  !  Phew  !  Oh, 
Lord,  I  wish  I  could  stop  laughin',"  said  Beetle. 

"  Stinks  !  Hi,  stinks  !  Clammy  ones  !  "  Mc- 
Turk  gasped  as  he  regained  his  place.  "  And  " — 
the  exquisite  humor  of  it  brought  them  sliding 
down  together  in  a  tangle — "  it's  all  for  the  honor 
of  the  house,  too  !  " 

"An' they're  holdin'  another  meetin' — on  us," 
Stalky  panted,  his  knees  in  the  ditch  and  his  face  in 
the  long  grass.  "Well,  let's  get  the  bullet  out  of 
her  and  hurry  up.  The  sooner  she's  bedded  out  the 
better." 

Between  them  they  did  some  grisly  work  with  a 
penknife ;  between  them  (ask  not  who  buttoned  her 
to  his  bosom)  they  took  up  the  corpse  and  hastened 
back,  Stalky  arranging  their  plan  of  action  at  the 
full  trot. 

The  afternoon  sun,  lying  in  broad  patches  on  the 
bed-rugs,  saw  three  bojTs  and  an  umbrella  disappear 
into  a  dormitory  wall.  In  five  minutes  they 
emerged,  brushed  themselves  all  over,  washed  their 
hands,  combed  their  hair,  and  descended. 

"Are  you  sure  you  shoved  her  far  enough  un- 
der?"  said  McTurk  suddenly. 

"Hang  it,  man,  I  shoved  her  the  full  length  of 
my  arm  and  Beetle's  brolly.  That  must  be  about 

[91] 


STALKY    &    CO. 

six  feet.  She's  bung  in  the  middle  of  King's  big- 
upper  ten-bedder.  Eligible  central  situation,  /call 
it.  She'll  stink  out  his  chaps,  and  Ilartopp's  and 
Macrea's,  when  she  really  begins  to  fume.  I  swear 
your  Uncle  Stalky  is  a  great  man.  Do  you  realize 
what  a  great  man  he  is,  Beetle  ?  ' ' 

"  Well,  I  had  the  notion  first,  hadn't  I—?  only—" 

"  You  couldn't  do  it  Avithout  your  Uncle  Stalky, 
could  you?" 

"They've  been  calling  us  stinkers  for  a  week 
now,"  said  McTurk.  "  Oh,  won't  they  catch  it  !  " 

"Stinker!  Yah!  Stink-ah  !  "  rang  down  the 
corridor. 

"And  she's  there,"  said  Stalky,  a  hand  on  either 
boy's  shoulder.  "She — is — there,  gettin'  ready  to 
surprise  'em.  Presently  she'll  begin  to  whisper  to 
'em  in  their  dreams.  Then  she'll  whiff.  Golly, 
how  she'll  whiff  !  Oblige  me  by  thinkin'  of  it  for 
two  minutes. ' ' 

They  went  to  their  study  in  more  or  less  of 
silence.  There  they  began  to  laugh — laugh  as  only 
boys  can.  They  laughed  with  their  foreheads  on 
the  tables,  or  on  the  floor;  laughed  at  length,  curled 
over  the  backs  of  chairs  or  clinging  to  a  book-shelf; 
laughed  themselves  limp. 

And  in  the  middle  of  it  Orrin  entered  on  behalf 
of  the  house. 

"Don't  mind  us,  Orrin;  sit  down.  You  don't 
[92]  . 


AN   UNSAVORY   INTERLUDE. 

know  how  we  respect  and  admire  you.  There's 
something  about  your  pure,  high  young  forehead, 
full  of  the  dreams  of  innocent  boyhood,  that's  no 
end  fetchin'.  It  is,  indeed." 

"  The  house  sent  me  to  give  you  this."  He  laid 
a  folded  sheet  of  paper  on  the  table  and  retired 
with  an  awful  front. 

"It's  the  resolution!  Oh,  read  it,  some  one. 
I'm  too  silly-sick  with  laughin'  to  see,"  said  Beetle. 

Stalky  jerked  it  open  with  a  precautionary  sniff. 

"Phew!  Phew!  Listen.  '  The  house  notices 
with  pain  and  contempt  the  attitude  of  indiference ' 
— how  many  f's  in  indifference,  Beetle?  " 

"Two  for  choice." 

"Only  one  here — 'adopted  by  the  occupants 
of  Number  Five  study  in  relation  to  the  insults 
offered  to  Mr.  Proufs  house  at  the  recent  meeting  in 
Number  Twelve  form-room,  and  the  house  hereby 
pass  a  vote  of  censure  on  the  said  study. '  That's 
all." 

"And  she  bled  all  down  my  shirt,  too  !  "  said 
Beetle. 

"  An'  I'm  catty  all  over,"  said  McTurk,  "  though 
I  washed  twice." 

"An'  I  nearly  broke  Beetle's  brolly  plantin'  her 
where  she  would  blossom  !  " 

The  situation  was  beyond  speech,  but  not 
laughter.  There  was  some  attempt  that  night  to 

[93] 


STALKY   &    CO. 

demonstrate  against  the  three  in  their  dormitory; 
so  they  came  forth. 

"You  see,"  Beetle  began  suavely  as  he  loosened 
his  braces,  "  the  trouble  with  you  is  that  you're  a 
set  of  unthinkin'  asses.  You've  no  more  brains 
than  spidgers.  We've  told  you  that  heaps  of 
times,  haven't  we?" 

"  "We'll  give  all  three  of  you  a  dormitory  lickin'. 
You  always  jaw  at  us  as  if  you  were  prefects,"  cried 
one. 

"  Oh,  no,  you  won't,"  said  Stalky,  "  because  you 
know  that  if  you  did  you'd  get  the  worst  of  it 
sooner  or  later.  We  aren't  in  any  hurry,  ir^ 
can  afford  to  wait  for  our  little  revenges.  You've 
made  howlin'  asses  of  yourselves,  and  just  as  soon 
as  King  gets  hold  of  your  precious  resolutions  to- 
morrow you'll  find  that  out.  If  you  aren't  sick 
an'  sorry  by  to-morrow  night,  I'll — I'll  eat  my 
hat." 

But  or  ever  the  dinner-bell  rang  the  next  day 
Prout's  were  sadly  aware  of  their  error.  King  re- 
ceived stray  members  of  that  house  with  an  exag- 
gerated attitude  of  fear.  Did  they  purpose  to  cause 
him  to  be  dismissed  from  the  College  by  unanimous 
resolution  ?  What  were  their  views  concerning  the 
government  of  the  school,  that  he  might  hasten  to 
give  effect  to  them?  He  would  not  offend  them 
for  worlds  ;  but  he  feared — he  sadly  feared — that 


AN   UNSAVORY   INTERLUDE. 

his  own  house,  who  did  not  pass  resolutions  (but 
washed),  might  somewhat  deride. 

King  was  a  happy  man,  and  his  house,  basking  in 
the  favor  of  his  smile,  made  that  afternoon  a  long 
penance  to  the  misled  Prouts.  And  Prout  him- 
self, with  a  dull  and  lowering  visage,  tried  to  think 
out  the  rights  and  wrongs  of  it  all,  only  plunging 
deeper  into  bewilderment.  Why  should  his  house 
be  called  "  Stinkers  "  ?  Truly,  it  was  a  small  thing, 
but  he  had  been  trained  to  believe  that  straws  show 
which  way  the  wind  blows,  and  that  there  is  no 
smoke  without  fire.  He  approached  King  in  Com- 
mon-room with  a  sense  of  injustice,  but  King  was 
pleased  to  be  full  of  airy  persiflage  that  tide, 
and  brilliantly  danced  dialectical  rings  round 
Prout. 

"Now,"  said  Stalky  at  bedtime,  making  pilgrim- 
age through  the  dormitories  before  the  prefects 
came  up,  ' '  now  what  have  you  got  to  say  for  your- 
selves? Foster,  Carton,  Finch,  Longbridge,  Mar- 
lin,  Brett !  I  heard  you  chaps  catchin'  it  from 
King — he  made  hay  of  you — an'  all  you  could  do 
was  to  wriggle  an'  grin  an'  say,  'Yes,  sir,'  an' 
'No,  sir,'  an'  '  O,  sir,'  an'  'Please,  sir'  !  You  an' 
your  resolution  !  Urh  !  " 

"Oh,  shut  up,  Stalky." 

"  Not  a  bit  of  it.  You're  a  gaudy  lot  of  resolu- 
tionists,  you  are  !  You've  made  a  sweet  mess  of  it. 


STALKY   &    CO. 

Perhaps  you'll  have  the  decency  to  leave  us  alone 
next  time." 

Here  the  house  grew  angry,  and  in  many  voices 
pointed  out  how  this  blunder  would  never  have 
come  to  pass  if  Number  Five  study  had  helped  them 
from  the  first. 

"But  you  chaps  are  so  beastly  conceited,  an' — 
an'  you  swaggered  into  the  meetin'  as  if  we  were  a 
lot  of  idiots,"  growled  Orrin  of  the  resolution. 

"That's  precisely  what  you  are!  That's  what 
we've  been  tryin'  to  hammer  into  your  thick  heads 
all  this  time,"  said  Stalky.  "Never  mind,  we'll 
forgive  you.  Cheer  up.  You  can't  help  bein' 
asses,  you  know,"  and,  the  enemy's  flank  deftly 
turned,  Stalky  hopped  into  bed. 

That  night  was  the  first  of  sorrow  among  the 
jubilant  King's.  By  some  accident  of  under-floor 
drafts  the  cat  did  not  vex  the  dormitory  beneath 
which  she  lay,  but  the  next  one  to  the  right ;  steal- 
ing on  the  air  rather  as  a  pale-blue  sensation  than 
as  any  poignant  offense.  But  the  mere  adumbration 
of  an  odor  is  enough  for  the  sensitive  nose  and  clean 
tongue  of  youth.  Decency  demands  that  we  draw 
several  carbolized  sheets  over  what  the  dormitory 
said  to  Mr.  King  and  what  Mr.  King  replied.  He 
was  genuinely  proud  of  his  house  and  fastidious  in 
all  that  concerned  their  well-being.  He  came;  he 
sniffed;  he  said  things.  Next  morning  a  boy  in 

[96] 


AN   UNSAVORY   INTERLUDE. 

that  dormitory  confided  to  his  bosom  friend,  a  fag 
of  Macrea's,  that  there  was  trouble  in  their  midst 
which  King  would  fain  keep  secret. 

But  Macrea's  boy  had  also  a  bosom  friend  in 
Prout's,  a  shock-headed  fag  of  malignant  disposi- 
tion, who,  when  he  had  wormed  out  the  secret,  told — 
told  it  in  a  high-pitched  treble  that  rang  along  the 
corridor  like  a  bat's  squeak. 

"An' — an'  they've  been  calling  us  'stinkers'  all 
this  week.  Why,  Harland  minor  says  they  simply 
can't  sleep  in  his  dormitory  for  the  stink.  Come 
on!" 

"With  one  shout  and  with  one  cry"  Prout's 
juniors  hurled  themselves  into  the  war,  and  through 
the  interval  between  first  and  second  lesson  some 
fifty  twelve-year-olds  were  embroiled  on  the  gravel 
outside  King's  windows  to  a  tune  whose  leit-motif 
was  the  word  "  stinker." 

"  Hark  to  the  minute-gun  at  sea  !  "  said  Stalky. 
They  were  in  their  study  collecting  books  for  second 
lesson — Latin,  with  King.  "  I  thought  his  azure 
brow  was  a  bit  cloudy  at  prayers.  '  She  is  comin', 
sister  Mary.  She  is ' 

"  If  they  make  such  a  row  now,  what  will  they 
do  when  she  really  begins  to  look  up  an'  take 
notice?" 

"Well,  no  vulgar  repartee,  Beetle.  All  we 
want  is  to  keep  out  of  this  row  like  gentlemen." 

[97] 


STALKY   &    CO. 

11  'Tis  but  a  little  faded  flower.'  Where's  my 
Horace?  Look  here,  I  don't  understand  what  she 
means  by  stinkin'  out  Kattray's  dormitory  first. 
"We  holed  in  under  White's,  didn't  we?"  asked 
McTurk,  with  a  wrinkled  brow. 

"Skittish  little  thing.  She's  rompin'  about  all 
over  the  place,  I  suppose." 

"My  Aunt  !  King'll  be  a  cheerful  customer  at 
second  lesson.  I  haven't  prepared  my  Horace  one 
little  bit,  either,"  said  Beetle.  "  Come  on  !  " 

They  were  outside  the  form-room  door  now.  It 
was  within  five  minutes  of  the  bell,  and  King  might 
arrive  at  any  moment. 

Turkey  elbowed  into  a  cohort  of  scuffling  fags, 
cut  out  Thornton  tertius  (he  that  had  been  Har- 
land's  bosom  friend),  and  bade  him  tell  his  tale. 

It  was  a  simple  one,  interrupted  by  tears.  Many 
of  King's  house  had  already  battered  him  for 
libel. 

"Oh,  it's  nothing,"  McTurk  cried.  "He  says 
that  King's  house  stinks.  That's  all." 

"Stale!"  Stalky  shouted.  "We  knew  that 
years  ago,  only  we  didn't  choose  to  run  about 
shoutin'  'stinker.'  We've  got  some  manners,  if 
they  haven't.  Catch  a  fag,  Turkey,  and  make  sure 
of  it." 

Turkey's  long  arm  closed  on  a  hurried  and  anx- 
ious ornament  of  the  Lower  Second. 

[98] 


"  Prout's  juniors  hurled  themselves  into  the  war." 


AN   UNSAVOKY   INTEBLimE. 

"  Oh,  McTurk,  please  let  me  go.  I  don't  stink—' 
I  swear  I  don't  !  " 

"  Guilty  conscience  !  "  cried  Beetle.  "  Who  said 
you  did?" 

"  What  d'you  make  of  it?  "  Stalky  punted  the 
small  boy  into  Beetle's  arms. 

"  Snf  !  Snf  !  He  does,  though.  I  think  it's 
leprosy — or  thrush.  P'raps  it's  both.  Take  it 
away." 

"Indeed,  Master  Beetle"— King  generally  came 
to  the  house-door  for  a  minute  or  two  as  the  bell 
rang — "  we  are  vastly  indebted  to  you  for  your 
diagnosis,  which  seems  to  reflect  almost  as  much 
credit  on  the  natural  unwholesomeness  of  your  mind 
as  it  does  upon  your  pitiful  ignorance  of  the  diseases 
of  which  you  discourse  so  glibly.  We  will,  how- 
ever, test  your  knowledge  in  other  directions. ' ' 

That  was  a  merry  lesson,  but,  in  his  haste  to 
scarify  Beetle,  King  clean  neglected  to  give  him  an 
imposition,  and  since  at  the  same  time  he  supplied 
him  with  many  priceless  adjectives  for  later  use, 
Beetle  was  well  content,  and  applied  himself  most 
seriously  throughout  third  lesson  (algebra  with  lit- 
tle Hartopp)  to  composing  a  poem  entitled  "The 
Lazar-house. ' ' 

After  dinner  King  took  his  house  to  bathe  in  the 
sea  off  the  Pebbleridge.  It  was  an  old  promise ;  but 
he  wished  he  could  have  evaded  it,  for  all  Prout's 

[99] 


STALKY   &    CO. 

lined  up  by  the  Fives  Court  and  cheered  with  inten- 
tion. In  his  absence  not  less  than  half  the  school 
invaded  the  infected  dormitory  to  draw  their  own 
conclusions.  The  cat  had  gained  in  the  last  twelve 
hours,  but  a  battlefield  of  the  fifth  day  could  not 
have  been  so  flamboyant  as  the  spies  reported. 

"My  word,  she  is  doin'  herself  proud,"  said 
Stalky.  "Did  you  ever  smell  anything  like  it? 
Ah,  an'  she  isn't  under  White's  dormitory  at  all 
yet." 

"But  she  will  be.  Give  her  time,"  said  Beetle. 
"  She'll  twine  like  a  giddy  honeysuckle.  What 
howlin'  Lazarites  they  are!  No  house  is  justified  in 
makin'  itself  a  stench  in  the  nostrils  of  decent — 

"High-minded,  pure-souled  boys.  Do  you  burn 
with  remorse  and  regret?"  said  McTurk,  as  they 
hastened  to  meet  the  house  coming  up  from  the  sea. 
King  had  deserted  it,  so  speech  was  unfettered. 
Round  its  front  played  a  crowd  of  skirmishers — all 
houses  mixed — flying,  reforming,  shrieking  insults. 
On  its  tortured  flanks  marched  the  Hoplites,  seniors 
hurling  jests  one  after  another — simple  and  primi- 
tive jests  of  the  Stone  Age.  To  these  the  three 
added  themselves,  dispassionately,  with  an  air  of 
aloofness,  almost  sadly. 

"  And  they  look  all  right,  too,"  said  Stalky.  "  It 
can't  be  Rattray,  can  it?  Rattray?  " 

No  answer. 

[100] 


AN   UNSAVORY   INTERLUDE. 

"  Rattray,  dear  ?  He  seems  stuffy  about  something 
or  other.  Look  here,  old  man,  we  don't  bear  any 
malice  about  your  sending  that  soap  to  us  last  week, 
do  we  ?  Be  cheerful,  Eat.  You  can  live  this  down 
all  right.  I  dare  say  it's  only  a  few  fags.  Your 
house  is  so  beastly  slack,  though." 

"  You  aren't  going  back  to  the  house,  are  you?  " 
said  McTurk.  The  victims  desired  nothing  better. 
"  You've  simply  no  conception  of  the  reek  up  there. 
Of  course,  frowzin'  as  you  do,  you  wouldn't  notice 
it ;  but,  after  this  nice  wash  and  the  clean,  fresh  air, 
even  you'd  be  upset.  'Much  better  camp  on  the 
Burrows.  We'll  get  you  some  straw.  Shall  we  ?  " 
The  house  hurried  in  to  the  tune  of  "  John  Brown's 
body,"  sung  by  loving  schoolmates,  and  barricaded 
themselves  in  their  form-room.  Straightway  Stalky 
chalked  a  large  cross,  with  "Lord,  have  mercy 
upon  us,"  on  the  door,  and  left  King  to  find  it. 

The  wind  shifted  that  night  and  wafted  a  carrion- 
reek  into  Macrea's  dormitories  ;  so  that  boys  in 
nightgowns  pounded  on  the  locked  door  between 
the  houses,  entreating  King's  to  wash.  Number 
Five  study  went  to  second  lesson  with  not  more 
than  half  a  pound  of  camphor  apiece  in  their 
clothing;  and  King,  too  wary  to  ask  for  explana- 
tions, gibbered  a  while  and  hurled  them  forth.  So 
Beetle  finished  yet  another  poem  at  peace  in  the 
study. 

1101] 


STALKY    &    CO. 

"They're  usin'  carbolic  now.  Malpas  told  me," 
said  Stalky.  "  King  thinks  it's  the  drains." 

"She'll  need  a  lot  o'  carbolic,"  said  McTurk. 
"  No  harm  tryin',  I  suppose.  It  keeps  King  out  of 
mischief." 

"  I  swear  I  thought  he  was  goin'  to  kill  me  when 
I  sniffed  just  now.  He  didn't  mind  Burton  major 
sniffin'  at  me  the  other  day,  though.  He  never 
stopped  Alexander  howlin'  '  Stinker  ! '  into  our 
form-room  before — before  we  doctored  'em.  He 
just  grinned,"  said  Stalky.  "  What  was  he  froth- 
ing over  you  for,  Beetle?  " 

"Aha!  That  was  my  subtle  jape.  I  had  him 
on  toast.  You  know  he  always  jaws  about  the 
learned  Lipsius." 

"'Who  at  the  age  of  four' — that  chap?"  said 
McTurk. 

"  Yes.  "Whenever  he  hears  I've  written  a  poem. 
Well,  just  as  I  was  sittin'  down,  I  whispered,  '  How 
is  our  learned  Lepsius  ? '  to  Burton  major.  Old 
Butt  grinned  like  an  owl.  He  didn't  know  what  I 
was  drivin'  at;  but  King  jolly  well  did.  That  was 
really  why  he  hove  us  out.  Ain't  you  grateful? 
Now  shut  up.  I'm  goin'  to  write  the  '  Ballad  of 
the  Learned  Lipsius.' ' 

"Keep  clear  of  anything  coarse,  then,"  said 
Stalky.  "I  shouldn't  like  to  be  coarse  on  this 
happy  occasion." 

[102] 


AN   UNSAVORY   INTERLUDE. 

"  Not  for  wo-orlds.  "What  rhymes  to  '  stenches,' 
some  one?  " 

In  Common-room  at  lunch  King  discoursed  acridly 
to  Prout  of  boys  with  prurient  minds,  who  per- 
verted their  few  and  baleful  talents  to  sap  discipline 
and  corrupt  their  equals,  to  deal  in  foul  imagery 
and  destroy  reverence. 

"  But  you  didn't  seem  to  consider  this  when  your 
house  called  us — ah — stinkers.  If  you  hadn't  as- 
sured me  that  you  never  interfere  with  another 
man's  house,  I  should  almost  believe  that  it  was  a 
few  casual  remarks  of  yours  that  started  all  this 
nonsense." 

Prout  had  endured  much,  for  King  always  took 
his  temper  to  meals.  i 

"You  spoke  to  Beetle  yourself,  didn't  you? 
Something  about  not  bathing,  and  being  a  water- 
funk  ?  "  the  school  chaplain  put  in.  "I  was  scor- 
ing in  the  pavilion  that  day." 

"I  may  have — jestingly.  I  really  don't  pretend 
to  remember  every  remark  I  let  fall  among  small 
boys;  and  full  well  I  know  the  Beetle  has  no  feel- 
ings to  be  hurt." 

"May  be;  but  he,  or  they — it  comes  to  the  same 
thing — have  the  fiend's  own  knack  of  discovering  a 
man's  weak  place.  I  confess  I  rather  go  out  of  my 
way  to  conciliate  Number  Five  study.  It  may  be 
soft,  but  so  far,  I  believe,  I  am  the  only  man  here 
8  [ 103 ] 


STALKY   &    CO. 

whom  they  haven't  maddened  by  their — well — at- 
tentions." 

"  That  is  all  beside  the  point.  I  flatter  myself  I 
can  deal  with  them  alone  as  occasion  arises.  But  if 
they  feel  themselves  morally  supported  by  those 
who  should  wield  an  absolute  and  open-handed 
justice,  then  I  say  that  my  lot  is  indeed  a  hard 
one.  Of  all  things  I  detest,  I  admit  that  anything 
verging  on  disloyalty  among  ourselves  is  the 
first." 

The  Common-room  looked  at  one  another  out  of 
the  corners  of  their  eyes,  and  Prout  blushed. 

"I  deny  it  absolutely,"  he  said.  "Er — in  fact, 
I  own  that  I  personally  object  to  all  three  of  them. 
It  is  not  fair,  therefore,  to — 

"How  long  do  you  propose  to  allow  it?"  said 
King. 

"But  surely,"  said  Macrae,  deserting  his  usual 
ally,  "the  blame,  if  there  be  any,  rests  with  you, 
King.  You  can't  hold  them  responsible  for  the — 
you  prefer  the  good  old  Anglo-Saxon,  I  believe— 
stink  in  your  house.  My  boys  are  complaining  of 
it  now." 

"What  can  you  expect?  You  know  what  boys 
are.  Naturally  they  take  advantage  of  what  to 
them  is  a  heaven-sent  opportunity,"  said  little  Har- 
topp.  "What  is  the  trouble  in  your  dormitories, 
King?" 

[104] 


AN   UNSAVORY   INTERLUDE. 

Mr.  King  explained  that  as  he  had  made  it  the 
one  rule  of  his  life  never  to  interfere  with  another 
man's  house,  so  he  expected  not  to  be  too  patently 
interfered  with.  They  might  be  interested  to  learn 
— here  the  chaplain  heaved  a  weary  sigh — that  he 
had  taken  all  steps  that,  in  his  poor  judgment, 
would  meet  the  needs  of  the  case.  Nay,  further, 
he  had  himself  expended,  with  no  thought  of  reim- 
bursement, sums,  the  amount  of  which  he  would 
not  specify,  on  disinfectants.  This  he  had  done  be- 
cause he  knew  by  bitter — by  most  bitter — experi- 
ence that  the  management  of  the  college  was  slack, 
dilatory,  and  inefficient.  He  might  even  add,  almost 
as  slack  as  the  administration  of  certain  houses 
which  now  thought  fit  to  sit  in  judgment  on  his 
actions.  "With  a  short  summary  of  his  scholastic 
career,  and  a  precis  of  his  qualifications,  including 
his  degrees,  he  withdrew,  slamming  the  door. 

"Heigho!"  said  the  chaplain.  "  Ours  is  a 
dwarfing  life — a  belittling  life,  my  brethren.  God 
help  all  schoolmasters  !  They  need  it." 

"I  don't  like  the  boys,  I  own" — Prout  dug 
viciously  with  his  fork  into  the  table-cloth — "and 
I  don't  pretend  to  be  a  strong  man,  as  you  know. 
But  I  confess  I  can't  see  any  reason  why  I  should 
take  steps  against  Stalky  and  the  others  because 
King  happens  to  be  annoyed  by — by " 

"Falling  into  the  pit  he  has  digged,"  said  little 
[105] 


STALKY   &   CO. 

Hartopp.  "  Certainly  not,  Prout.  No  one  accuses 
you  of  setting  one  house  against  another  through 
sheer  idleness." 

"  A  belittling  life— a  belittling  life."  The  chap- 
lain rose.  "I  go  to  correct  French  exercises.  By 
dinner  King  will  have  scored  off  some  unlucky  child 
of  thirteen;  he  will  repeat  to  us  every  word  of  his 
brilliant  repartees,  and  all  will  be  well." 

"But  about  those  three.  Are  they  so  prurient- 
minded?  " 

"Nonsense,"  said  little  Hartopp.  "If  you 
thought  for  a  minute,  Prout,  you  would  see  that 
the  '  precocious  flow  of  fetid  imagery, '  that  King 
complains  of,  is  borrowed  wholesale  from  King. 
He  '  nursed  the  pinion  that  impelled  the  steel. ' 
Naturally  he  does  not  approve.  Come  into  the 
smoking-room  for  a  minute.  It  isn't  fair  to  listen 
to  boys;  but  they  should  be  now  rubbing  it  into 
King's  house  outside.  Little  things  please  little 
minds." 

The  dingy  den  off  the  Common-room  was  never 
used  for  anything  except  gowns.  Its  windows  were 
ground  glass;  one  could  not  see  out  of  it,  but  one 
could  hear  almost  every  word  on  the  gravel  outside. 
A  light  and  wary  footstep  came  up  from  Number 
Five. 

"  Kattray  !  "  in  a  subdued  voice — Eattray's  study 
fronted  that  way.  "D'you  know  if  Mr.  King's 
[106] 


AN   UNSAVORY   INTERLUDE. 

anywhere  about?  I've  got  a •"  McTurk  dis- 
creetly left  the  end  of  the  sentence  open. 

"No.  He's  gone  out,"  said  Rattray  unguard- 
edly. 

"Ah  !  The  learned  Lipsius  is  airing  himself,  is 
he?  His  Royal  Highness  has  gone  to  fumigate. " 
McTurk  climbed  on  the  railings,  where  he  held 
forth  like  the  never- wearied  rook. 

"  Now  in  all  the  Coll.  there  was  no  stink  like  the 
stink  of  King's  house,  for  it  stank  vehemently  and 
none  knew  what  to  make  of  it.  Save  King.  And 
he  washed  the  fags  privatim  et  seriatim.  In  the 
fishpools  of  Hesbon  washed  he  them,  with  an  apron 
about  his  loins. ' ' 

"  Shut  up,  you  mad  Irishman  !  "  There  was  the 
sound  of  a  golf -ball  spurting  up  gravel. 

"It's  no  good  getting  wrathy,  Rattray.  We've 
come  to  jape  with  you.  Come  on,  Beetle.  They're 
all  at  home.  You  can  wind  'em." 

"Where's  the  Pomposo  Stinkadore?  'Tisn't 
safe  for  a  pure-souled,  high-minded  boy  to  be  seen 
round  his  house  these  days.  Gone  out,  has  he? 
Never  mind.  I'll  do  the  best  I  can,  Rattray.  I'm 
in  loco parentis  just  now." 

("One  for  you,  Prout,"  whispered  Macrea,  for 
this  was  Mr.  Prout's  pet  phrase.) 

"  I  have  a  few  words  to  impart  to  you,  my  young 
friend.  We  will  discourse  together  a  while." 

[107] 


STALKY   &   CO. 

Here  the  listening  Prout  sputtered:  Beetle,  in  a 
strained  voice,  had  chosen  a  favorite  gambit  of 
King's. 

"I  repeat,  Master  Rattray,  we  will  confer,  and 
the  matter  of  our  discourse  shall  not  be  stinks,  for 
that  is  a  loathsome  and  obscene  word.  We  will, 
with  your  good  leave — granted,  I  trust,  Master 
Rattray,  granted,  I  trust — study  this — this  scabrous 
upheaval  of  latent  demoralization.  What  impresses 
me  most  is  not  so  much  the  blatant  indecency  with 
which  you  swagger  abroad  under  your  load  of 
putrescence ' '  (you  must  imagine  this  discourse 
punctuated  with  golf-balls,  but  old  Rattray  was 
ever  a  bad  shot)  "as  the  cynical  immorality  with 
which  you  revel  in  your  abhorrent  aromas.  Far  be 
it  from  me  to  interfere  with  another's  house — 

("  Good  Lord  !  "  said  Prout,  "  but  this  is  King." 

"Line  for  line,  letter  for  letter;  listen,"  said  lit- 
tle Hartopp.) 

' '  But  to  say  that  you  stink,  as  certain  lewd  fel- 
lows of  the  baser  sort  aver,  is  to  say  nothing — less 
than  nothing.  In  the  absence  of  }rour  beloved 
house-master,  for  whom  no  one  has  a  higher  regard 
than  myself,  I  will,  if  you  will  allow  me,  explain  the 
grossness — the  unparalleled  enormity — the  appall- 
ing fetor  of  the  stenches  (I  believe  in  the  good  old 
Anglo-Saxon  word),  stenches,  sir,  with  which  you 
have  seen  fit  to  infect  your  house.  .  .  .  Oh, 
[108] 


AN   UNSAVOEY   INTEELUDE. 

bother  !  I've  forgotten  the  rest,  but  it  was  very 
beautiful.  Aren't  you  grateful  to  us  for  laborin' 
with  you  this  way,  Rattray?  Lots  of  chaps  'ud 
never  have  taken  the  trouble,  but  we're  grateful, 
Rattray." 

"Yes,  we're  horrid  grateful,"  grunted  McTurk. 
"We  don't  forget  that  soap.  We*  re  polite.  Why 
ain't  you  polite,  Rat?  " 

"  Hallo  !  "  Stalky  cantered  up,  his  cap  over  one 
eye.  "Exhortin'  the  Whiff ers,  eh?  I'm  afraid 
they're  too  far  gone  to  repent.  Rattray  !  White  ! 
Perowne!  Malpas!  No  answer.  This  is  distressin'. 
This  is  truly  distressin'.  Bring  out  your  dead,  you 
glandered  lepers  !  " 

"You  think  yourself  funny,  don't  you?"  said 
Rattray,  stung  from  his  dignity  by  this  last.  "  It's 
only  a  rat  or  something  under  the  floor.  We're 
going  to  have  it  up  to-morrow." 

"  Don't  try  to  shuffle  it  off  on  a  poor  dumb  ani- 
mal, and  dead,  too.  I  loathe  prevarication.  'Pon 
my  soul,  Rattray " 

"  Hold  on.  The  Hartoffles  never  said  '  'Pon  my 
soul '  in  all  his  little  life,"  said  Beetle  critically. 

("  Ah  !  "  said  Prout  to  little  Hartopp.) 

"Upon  my  word,  sir,  upon  my  word,  sir,  I  ex- 
pected better  things  of  you,  Rattray.  Why  can 
you  not  own  up  to  your  misdeeds  like  a  man? 
Have  /ever  shown  any  lack  of  confidence  in  you  f  " 
[109] 


STALKY   &   CO. 

("It's  not  brutality,"  murmured  little  Hartopp, 
as  though  answering  a  question  no  one  had  asked. 
"  It's  boy;  only  boy.") 

"And  this  was  the  house,"  Stalky  changed  from 
a  pecking,  fluttering  voice  to  tragic  earnestness. 
"  This  was  the — the — open  cesspit  that  dared  to 
call  us  '  stinkers. '  And  now — and  now,  it  tries  to 
shelter  itself  behind  a  dead  rat.  You  annoy  me, 
Rattray.  You  disgust  me  !  You  irritate  me  un- 
speakably !  Thank  Heaven,  I  am  a  man  of  equable 
temper ' ' 

("  This  is  to  your  address,  Macrea,"  said  Prout. 

"  I  fear  so,  I  fear  so.") 

"  Or  I  should  scarcely  be  able  to  contain  myself 
before  your  mocking  visage." 

"Ccvoe!"  in  an  undertone.  Beetle  had  spied 
King  sailing  down  the  corridor. 

"And  what  may  you  be  doing  here,  my  little 
friends  ?  "  the  house-master  began.  "  I  had  a  fleet- 
ing notion — correct  me  if  I  am  wrong  "  (the  listeners 
with  one  accord  choked) — "  that  if  I  found  you  out- 
side my  house  I  should  visit  you  with  dire  pains  and 
penalties." 

"  "We  were  just  goin'  for  a  walk,  sir,"  said  Beetle. 

"  And  you  stopped  to  speak  to  Rattray  en  route  f  " 

"Yes,  sir.  We've  been  throwing  golf -balls," 
said  Rattray,  coming  out  of  the  study. 

("  Old  Rat  is  more  of  a  diplomat  than  I  thought 
[110] 


AN   UNSAVORY   INTERLUDE. 

So  far  he  is  strictly  within  the  truth,"  said  little 
Hartopp.     "  Observe  the  ethics  of  it,  Prout.") 

"Oh,  you  were  sporting  with  them,  were  you? 
I  must  say  I  do  not  envy  you  your  choice  of  asso- 
ciates. I  fancied  they  might  have  been  engaged 
in  some  of  the  prurient  discourse  with  which  they 
have  been  so  disgustingly  free  of  late.  I  should 
strongly  advise  you  to  direct  your  steps  most  care- 
fully in  the  future.  Pick  up  those  golf -balls. "  He 
passed  on. 

*•••••••• 

Next  day  Eichards,  who  had  been  a  carpenter  in 
the  Navy,  and  to  whom  odd  jobs  were  confided,  was 
ordered  to  take  up  a  dormitory  floor ;  for  Mr.  King 
held  that  something  must  have  died  there. 

"  We  need  not  neglect  all  our  work  for  a  trump- 
ery incident  of  this  nature  ;  though  I  am  quite 
aware  that  little  things  please  little  minds.  Yes,  I 
have  decreed  the  boards  to  be  taken  up  after  lunch 
under  Richards's  auspices.  I  have  no  doubt  it  will 
be  vastly  interesting  to  a  certain  type  of  so-called 
intellect ;  but  any  boy  of  my  house  or  another's 
found  on  the  dormitory  stairs  will  ipso  facto  render 
himself  liable  to  three  hundred  lines." 

The  boys  did  not  collect  on  the  stairs,  but  most  of 
them  waited  outside  King's.      Richards  had  been 
bound  to  cry  the  news  from  the  attic  window,  and, 
if  possible,  to  exhibit  the  corpse. 
[HI] 


STALKY    &    CO. 

"  'Tis  a  cat,  a  dead  cat  !  "  Kichards's  face 
showed  purple  at  the  window.  He  had  been  in 
the  chamber  of  death  and  on  his  knees  for  some 
time. 

"  Cat  be  bio  wed  !  "  cried  McTurk.  "  It's  a  dead 
fag  left  over  from  last  term.  Three  cheers  for 
King's  dead  fag  !  " 

They  cheered  lustily. 

"  Show  it,  show  it !  Let's  have  a  squint  at  it  !  " 
yelled  the  juniors.  "  Give  her  to  the  Bug-hunters." 
(This  was  the  Natural  History  Society).  "  The  cat 
looked  at  the  King — and  died  of  it  !  Hoosh  ! 
Yai  !  Yaow  !  Maiow  !  Ftzz  !  "  were  some  of 
the  cries  that  followed. 

Again  Richards  appeared. 

"  She' ve  been  " — he  checked  himself  suddenly — 
"  dead  a  long  taime. " 

The  school  roared. 

""Well,  come  on  out  for  a  walk,"  said  Stalky  in 
a  well-chosen  pause.  "  It's  all  very  disgustin',  and 
I  do  hope  the  Lazar-house  won't  do  it  again." 

"  Do  what  ?  "  a  King's  boy  cried  furiously. 

"  Kill  a  poor  innocent  cat  every  time  you  want  to 
get  off  washing.  It's  awfully  hard  to  distinguish 
between  you  as  it  is.  I  prefer  the  cat,  I  must  say. 
She  isn't  quite  so  whiff.  What  are  you  goin'  to 
do,  Beetle?  " 

"  Je  vais  gloater.  Je  vais  gloater  tout  le  blessed 
[112] 


AN  UNSAVORY   INTERLUDE. 

afternoon.     Jamais  j'ai  gloate  comme  je  gloaterai 
aiyourd  ^hui.     Nous  bunkerons  aux  bunkers. ' ' 
And  it  seemed  good  to  them  so  to  do. 

Down  in  the  basement,  where  the  gas  flickers  and 
the  boots  stand  in  racks,  Richards,  amid  his  black- 
ing-brushes, held  forth  to  Oke  of  the  Common-room, 
Gumbly  of  the  dining-halls,  and  fair  Lena  of  the 
laundry. 

"Yiss.  Her  were  in  a  shockin'  staate  an'  con- 
dition. Her  nigh  made  me  sick,  I  tal  'ee.  But  I 
rowted  un  out,  and  I  rowted  un  out,  an'  I  made  all 
shipshape,  though  her  smelt  like  to  bilges." 

"Her  died  mousin',  I  rackon,  poor  thing,"  said 
Lena. 

"Then  her  moused  different  to  any  made  cat  o' 
God's  world,  Lena.  I  up  with  the  top-board,  an' 
she  were  lying  on  her  back,  an'  I  turned  un  ovver 
with  the  brume-handle,  an'  'twas  her  back  was  all 
covered  with  the  plaster  from  'twixt  the  lathin'. 
Yiss,  I  tal  'ee.  An'  under  her  head  there  lay,  like, 
so's  to  say,  a  little  pillow  o'  plaster  druv  up  in  front 
of  her  by  raison  of  her  slidin'  along  on  her  back. 
No  cat  niver  went  mousin'  on  her  back,  Lena. 
Some  one  had  shoved  her  along  right  underneath, 
so  far  as  they  could  shove  un.  Cats  don't  make 
theyselves  pillows  for  to  die  on.  Shoved  along,  she 
were,  when  she  was  settin'  for  to  be  cold,  laike." 


STALKY   &    CO. 

"  Oh,  yeou'm  too  clever  to  live,  Fatty.  Yeou  go 
get  wed  an'  taught  some  sense,"  said  Lena,  the 
affianced  of  Gumbly. 

"Lamed  a  little  'fore  iver  some  maidens  was 
born.  Sarved  in  the  Queen's  Navy,  I  have,  where 
yeou'm  taught  to  use  your  eyes.  Yeou  go  'tend 
your  own  business,  Lena." 

" Do  'ee  mean  what  you'm  been  tellin'  us?  "  said 
Oke. 

"Ask  me  no  questions,  I'll  give  'ee  no  lies. 
Bullet-hole  clane  thru  from  side  to  side,  an'  tu 
heart-ribs  broke  like  withies.  I  seed  un  when  I 
turned  un  ovver.  They'm  clever,  oh,  they'm 
clever,  but  they'm  not  too  clever  for  old  Richards  ! 
'Twas  on  the  born  tip  o'  my  tongue  to  tell,  tu,  but 
.  .  .  he  said  us  niver  washed,  he  did.  Let  his 
dom  boys  call  us  c  stinkers,'  he  did.  Sarve  un  dom 
well  raight,  I  say  !  " 

Richards  spat  on  a  fresh  boot  and  fell  to  his  work, 
chuckling. 


[114] 


THE   IMPRESSIONISTS. 

THEY  had  dropped  into  the  chaplain's  study  for  a 
Saturday  night  smoke — all  four  house-masters — and 
the  three  briars  and  the  one  cigar  reeking  in  amity 
proved  the  Eev.  John  Gillett's  good  generalship. 
Since  the  discovery  of  the  cat,  King  had  been  too 
ready  to  see  affront  where  none  was  meant,  and  the 
Reverend  John,  buffer-state  and  general  confidant, 
had  worked  for  a  week  to  bring  about  a  good  un- 
derstanding. He  was  fat,  clean-shaven,  except  for 
a  big  mustache,  of  an  imperturbable  good  temper, 
and,  those  who  loved  him  least  said,  a  guileful 
Jesuit.  He  smiled  benignantly  upon  his  handiwork 
— four  sorely  tried  men  talking  without  very  much 
malice. 

' '  Now  remember, ' '  he  said,  when  the  conversa- 
tion turned  that  way,  "  I  impute  nothing.  But 
every  time  that  any  one  has  taken  direct  steps 
against  Number  Five  study,  the  issue  has  been  more 
or  less  humiliating  to  the  taker." 

"I  can't  admit  that.  I  pulverize  the  egregious 
Beetle  daily  for  his  soul's  good;  and  the  others  with 
him,"  said  King. 

[115] 


STALKY   &    CO. 

"  "Well,  take  your  own  case,  King,  and  go  back  a 
couple  of  years.  Do  you  remember  when  Prout 
and  you  were  on  their  track — for  hutting  and  tres- 
pass, wasn't  it  ?  Have  you  forgotten  Colonel  Dab- 
ney?" 

The  others  laughed.  King  did  not  care  to  be 
reminded  of  his  career  as  a  poacher. 

"That  was  one  instance.  Again,  when  you  had 
rooms  below  them — I  always  said  that  that  was  en- 
tering the  lion's  den — you  turned  them  out." 

"For  making  disgusting  noises.  Surely,  Gillett, 
you  don't  excuse — 

"  All  I  say  is  that  you  turned  them  out.  That 
same  evening  your  study  was  wrecked." 

' '  By  Rabbits-Eggs — most  beastly  drunk — from 
the  road,"  said  King.  "  What  has  that ?  " 

The  Reverend  John  went  on. 

"Lastly,  they  conceive  that  aspersions  are  cast 
upon  their  personal  cleanliness — a  most  delicate 
matter  with  all  boys.  Ye-ry  good.  Observe  how, 
in  each  case,  the  punishment  fits  the  crime.  A 
week  after  your  house  calls  them  '  stinkers, '  King, 
your  house  is,  not  to  put  too  fine  a  point  on  it, 
stunk  out  by  a  dead  cat  who  chooses  to  die  in  the 
one  spot  where  she  can  annoy  you  most.  Again 
the  long  arm  of  coincidence  !  Summa.  You  ac- 
cuse them  of  trespass.  Through  some  absurd  chain 
of  circumstances — they  may  or  may  not  be  at  the 
[116] 


THE   IMPRESSIONISTS. 

other  end  of  it — you  and  Prout  are  made  to  appear 
as  trespassers.  You  evict  them.  For  a  time  your 
study  is  made  untenable.  I  have  drawn  the  parallel 
in  the  last  case.  Well?" 

"  She  was  under  the  centre  of  White's  dormi- 
tory," said  King.  "There  are  double  floor-boards 
there  to  deaden  noise.  No  boy,  even  in  my  own 
house,  could  possibly  have  pried  up  the  boards  with- 
out leaving  some  trace — and  Kabbits-Eggs  was  phe- 
nomenally drunk  that  other  night." 

"  They  are  singularly  favored  by  fortune.  That 
is  all  I  ever  said.  Personally,  I  like  them  im- 
mensely, and  I  believe  I  have  a  little  of  their  confi- 
dence. I  confess  I  like  being  called  '  Padre. '  They 
are  at  peace  with  me ;  consequently  I  am  not  treated 
to  bogus  confessions  of  theft. ' ' 

"  You  mean  Mason's  case  ?"  said  Prout  heavily. 
"  That  always  struck  me  as  peculiarly  scandalous. 
I  thought  the  Head  should  have  taken  up  the  mat- 
ter more  thoroughly.  Mason  may  be  misguided, 
but  at  least  he  is  thoroughly  sincere  and  means 
well." 

"I  confess  I  cannot  agree  with  you,  Prout,"  said 
the  Reverend  John.  "  He  jumped  at  some  silly 
tale  of  theft  on  their  part;  accepted  another  boy's 
evidence  without,  so  far  as  I  can  see,  any  inquiry; 
and — frankly,  I  think  he  deserved  all  he  got." 

"  They  deliberately  outraged  Mason's  best  feel- 

cm] 


STALKY   &    CO. 

ings,"  said  Prout.  "A  word  to  me  on  their  part 
would  have  saved  the  whole  thing.  But  they  pre- 
ferred to  lure  him  on ;  to  play  on  his  ignorance  of 

their  characters ' ' 

"  That  may  be,"  said  King,  "  but  I  don't  like  Mason. 

I  dislike  him  for  the  very  reason  that  Prout  advances 
to  his  credit.  He  means  well." 

"  Our  criminal  tradition  is  not  theft — among  our- 
selves, at  least,"  said  little  Hartopp. 

"  For  the  head  of  a  house  that  raided  seven  head  of 
cattle  from  the  innocent  pot-wallopers  of  JSTortham, 
isn't  that  rather  a  sweeping  statement?  "  said  Macrae. 

"  Precisely  so,"  said  Hartopp,  unabashed.  "  That, 
with  gate-lifting,  and  a  little  poaching  and  hawk-hunt- 
ing on  the  cliffs,  is  our  salvation." 

"  It  does  us  far  more  harm  as  a  school — "  Prout 
began. 

"  Than  any  hushed-up  scandal  could?  Quite  so. 
Our  reputation  among  the  farmers  is  most  unsavory. 
But  I  would  much  sooner  deal  with  any  amount  of 
ingenious  crime  of  that  nature  than — some  other 
offenses." 

"  They  may  be  all  right,  but  they  are  unboylike, 
abnormal,  and,  in  my  opinion,  unsound,"  Prout  in- 
sisted. "  The  moral  effect  of  their  performances  must 
pave  the  way  for  greater  harm.  It  makes  me  doubt- 
ful how  to  deal  with  them.  I  might  separate  them." 

"  You  might,  of  course;  but  they  have  gone  up  the 
[118] 


THE   IMPRESSIONISTS. 

school  together  for  six  years.     7  shouldn't  care  to  do 
it,"  said  Macrae. 

"  They  use  the  editorial  '  we/  "  said  King,  irrele- 
vantly. "  It  annoys  me.  '  "Where's  your  prose, 
Corkran? '  '  Well,  sir,  we  haven't  quite  done  it  yet.' 
'  We'll  bring  it  in  a  minute,'  and  so  on.  And  the 
same  with  the  others." 

"  There's  great  virtue  in  that '  we,'  "  said  little  Har- 
topp.  "  You  know  I  take  them  for  trig.  McTurk 
may  have  some  conception  of  the  meaning  of  it;  but 
Beetle  is  as  the  brutes  that  perish  about  sines  and 
cosines.  He  copies  serenely  from  Stalky,  who  posi- 
tively rejoices  in  mathematics." 

"  Why  don't  you  stop  it?  "  said  Prout. 

"  It  rights  itself  at  the  exams.  Then  Beetle  shows 
up  blank  sheets,  and  trusts  to  his  '  English '  to  save 
him  from  a  fall.  I  fancy  he  spends  most  of  his  time 
with  me  in  writing  verse." 

"  I  wish  to  Heaven  he  would  transfer  a  little  of  his 
energy  in  that  direction  to  Elegiacs."  King  jerked 
himself  upright.  "  He  is,  with  the  single  exception 
of  Stalky,  the  very  vilest  manufacturer  of  '  barbarous 
hexameters  '  that  I  have  ever  dealt  with." 

"  The  work  is  combined  in  that  study,"  said  the 
chaplain.  "  Stalky  does  the  mathematics,  McTurk 
the  Latin,  and  Beetle  attends  to  their  English  and 
French.  At  least,  when  he  was  in  the  sick-house  last 

month " 

»  [119] 


STALKY   &   CO. 

"  Malingering,"  Prout  interjected. 

"  Quite  possibly.  I  found  a  very  distinct  falling  off 
in  their  '  Roman  d'un  Jeune  Homme  Pauvre '  trans- 
lations." 

"  I  think  it  is  profoundly  immoral,"  said  Prout. 
"  I've  always  been  opposed  to  the  study  system." 

"  It  would  be  hard  to  find  any  study  where  the  boys 
don't  help  each  other;  but  in  Number  Five  the  thing 
has  probably  been  reduced  to  a  system,"  said  little 
Hartopp.  "  They  have  a  system  in  most  things." 

"  They  confess  as  much,"  said  the  Reverend  John. 
"  I've  seen  McTurk  being  hounded  up  the  stairs  to 
elegise  the  '  Elegy  in  a  Churchyard,'  while  Beetle  and 
Stalky  went  to  punt-about" 

"  It  amounts  to  systematic  cribbing,"  said  Prout, 
his  voice  growing  deeper  and  deeper. 

"  No  such  thing,"  little  Hartopp  returned.  "  You 
can't  teach  a  cow  the  violin." 

"  In  intention  it  is  cribbing." 

"  But  we  spoke  under  the  seal  of  the  confessional, 
didn't  we?  "  said  the  Reverend  John. 

"  You  say  you've  heard  them  arranging  their  work 
in  this  way,  Gillett,"  Prout  persisted. 

"Good  Heavens!  Don't  make  me  Queen's  evi- 
dence, my  dear  fellow.  Hartopp  is  equally  incrimi- 
nated. If  they  ever  found  out  that  I  had  sneaked, 
our  relations  would  suffer — and  I  value  them." 

"  I  think  your  attitude  in  this  matter  is  weak,"  said 
[  120  } 


THE   IMPEESSIONISTS. 

Prout,  looking  round  for  support.  "  It  would  be 
really  better  to  break  up  the  study — for  a  while — 
wouldn't  it?  " 

"  Oh,  break  it  up  by  all  means,"  said  Macrae.  "  We 
shall  see  then  if  Gillett's  theory  holds  water." 

"  Be  wise,  Prout.  Leave  them  alone,  or  calamity 
will  overtake  you;  and  what  is  much  more  important, 
they  will  be  annoyed  with  me.  I  am  too  fat,  alas! 
to  be  worried  by  bad  boys.  Where  are  you  going?  " 

"  Nonsense !  They  would  not  dare — but  I  am 
going  to  think  this  out,"  said  Prout.  "  It  needs 
thought.  In  intention  they  cribbed,  and  I  must  think 
out  my  duty." 

"  He's  perfectly  capable  of  putting  the  boys  on  their 
honor.  It's  I  that  am  a  fool."  The  Reverend  John 
looked  round  remorsefully.  "  Never  again  will  I  for- 
get that  a  master  is  not  a  man.  Mark  my  words,"  said 
the  Reverend  John.  "  There  will  be  trouble." 


But  by  the  yellow  Tiber 
Was  tumult  and  affright. 

Out  of  the  blue  sky  (they  were  still  rejoicing  over 
the  cat  war)  Mr.  Prout  had  dropped  into  Xumber 
Five,  read  them  a  lecture  on  the  enormity  of  cribbing, 
and  bidden  them  return  to  the  form-rooms  on  Mon- 
day. They  had  raged,  solo  and  chorus  all  through 
[121] 


STALKY    &    CO. 

the  peaceful  Sabbath,  for  their  sin  was  more  or  less  the 
daily  practice  of  all  the  studies. 

"  What's  the  good  of  cursing?  "  said  Stalky  at  last. 
"  We're  all  in  the  same  boat.  We've  got  to  go  back 
and  consort  with  the  house.  A  locker  in  the  form- 
room,  and  a  seat  at  prep,  in  Number  Twelve."  (He 
looked  regretfully  round  the  cozy  study  which  Mc- 
Turk,  their  leader  in  matters  of  Art,  had  decorated 
with  a  dado,  a  stencil,  and  cretonne  hangings.) 

"  Yes !  Heffy  lurchin'  into  the  form-rooms  like 
a  frowzy  old  retriever,  to  see  if  we  aren't  up  to 
something.  You  know  he  never  leaves  his  house 
alone,  these  days,"  said  McTurk.  "  Oh,  it  will  be 
giddy!" 

"Why  aren't  you  down  watchin'  cricket?  I  like 
a  robust,  healthy  boy.  You  mustn't  frowst  in  a  form- 
room.  Why  don't  you  take  an  interest  in  your  house? 
Yah!  "  quoted  Beetle. 

"  Yes,  why  don't  we?  Let's!  We'll  take  an  inter- 
est in  the  house.  We'll  take  no  end  of  interest  in 
the  house!  He  hasn't  had  us  in  the  form-rooms  for 
a  year.  We've  learned  a  lot  since  then.  Oh,  we'll 
make  it  a  be-autif ul  house  before  we've  done !  'Mem- 
ber that  chap  in  '  Eric  '  or  '  St.  Winifred's  ' — Belial 
somebody?  I'm  goin'  to  be  Belial,"  said  Stalky,  with 
an  ensnaring  grin. 

"  Right  O,"  said  Beetle,  "  and  I'll  be  Mammon. 
I'll  lend  money  at  usury — that's  what  they  do  at  all 
[122] 


THE    IMPEESSIONISTS. 

schools  accordin'  to  the  B.  O.  P.  Penny  a  week  on  a 
shillin'.  That'll  startle  Heffy's  weak  intellect.  You 
can  be  Lucifer,  Turkey." 

"  What  have  I  got  to  do?  "    McTurk  also  smiled. 

"  Head  conspiracies — and  cabals — and  boycotts. 
Go  in  for  that '  stealthy  intrigue  '  that  Hefly  is  always 
talkin'  about.  Come  on !  " 

The  house  received  them  on  their  fall  with  the 
mixture  of  jest  and  sympathy  always  extended  to  boys 
turned  out  of  their  study.  The  known  aloofness  of 
the  three  made  them  more  interesting. 

"  Quite  like  old  times,  ain't  it?  "  Stalky  selected 
a  locker  and  flung  in  his  books.  "  We've  come  to 
sport  with  you,  my  young  friends,  for  a  while,  because 
our  beloved  house-master  has  hove  us  out  of  our  dig- 
gin's." 

"  'Serve  you  jolly  well  right,"  said  Orrin,  "  you 
cribbers!  " 

"This  will  never  do,"  said  Stalky.  "We  can't 
maintain  our  giddy  prestige,  Orrin,  de-ah,  if  you  make 
these  remarks." 

They  wrapped  themselves  lovingly  about  the  boy, 
thrust  him  to  the  opened  window,  and  drew  down  the 
sash  to  the  nape  of  his  neck.  With  an  equal  swiftness 
they  tied  his  thumbs  together  behind  his  back  with  a 
piece  of  twine,  and  then,  because  he  kicked  furiously, 
removed  his  shoes. 

There  Mr.  Prout  happened  to  find  him  a  few  min- 
[123] 


STALKY    &    CO. 

utes  later,  guillotined  and  helpless,  surrounded  by  a 
convulsed  crowd  who  would  not  assist. 

Stalky,  in  an  upper  form-room,  had  gathered  him- 
self allies  against  vengeance.  Orrin  presently  tore  up 
at  the  head  of  a  boarding  party,  and  the  form-room 
grew  one  fog  of  dust  through  which  boys  wrestled, 
stamped,  shouted,  and  yelled.  A  desk  was  carried 
away  in  the  tumult,  a  knot  of  warriors  reeled  into  and 
split  a  door-panel,  a  window  was  broken,  and  a  gas-jet 
fell.  Under  cover  of  the  confusion  the  three  escaped 
to  the  corridor,  whence  they  called  in  and  sent  up 
passers-by  to  the  fray. 

"Eescue,  Kings!  Kings!  Kings!  Number  Twelve 
form-room!  Rescue,  Prouts — Fronts!  Rescue,  Ma- 
craes! Rescue,  Hartopps!  " 

The  juniors  hurried  out  like  bees  aswarm,  asking  no 
questions,  clattered  up  the  staircase,  and  added  them- 
selves to  the  embroilment. 

"  Xot  bad  for  the  first  evening's  work,"  said  Stalky, 
rearranging  his  collar.  "  I  fancy  Prout'll  be  some- 
what annoyed.  We'd  better  establish  an  alibi."  So 
they  sat  on  Mr.  King's  railings  till  prep. 

"You  see,"  quoth  Stalky,  as  they  strolled  up  to  prep, 
wifh  the  ignoble  herd,  "  if  you  get  the  houses  well 
mixed  up  an'  scufflin',  it's  even  bettin'  that  some  ass 
will  start  a  real  row.  Hullo,  Orrin,  you  look  rather 
metagrobolized." 

"  It  was  all  your  fault,  you  beast !  You  started  it. 
[124] 


"  '  Rescue  Kings  !    Kings  !  Kings  ! '  " 


THE   IMPKESSIONISTS. 

We've  got  two  hundred  lines  apiece,  and  Ileffy's  look- 
in'  for  you.  Just  see  what  that  swine  Malpas  did  to 
my  eye!  " 

"  I  like  your  saying  we  started  it.  "Who  called  us 
cribbers?  Can't  your  infant  mind  connect  cause  and 
effect  yet  ?  Some  day  you'll  find  out  that  it  don't  pay 
to  jest  with  dumber  Five." 

"  Where's  that  shillin'  you  owe  me  ?  "  said  Beetle 
suddenly. 

Stalky  could  not  see  Front  behind  him,  but  returned 
the  lead  without  a  quaver. 

"  I  only  owed  you  ninepence,  you  old  usurer." 

"'  You've  forgotten  the  interest,"  said  McTurk.  "  A 
halfpenny  a  week  per  bob  is  Beetle's  charge.  You 
must  be  beastly  rich,  Beetle." 

"  Well,  Beetle  lent  me  sixpence."  Stalky  came  to 
a  full  stop  and  made  as  to  work  it  out  on  his  fingers. 
"  Sixpence  on  the  nineteenth,  didn't  he?  " 

"  Yes;  but  you've  forgotten  you  paid  no  interest  on 
the  other  bob — the  one  I  lent  you  before." 

"  But  you  took  my  watch  as  security."  The  game 
was  developing  itself  almost  automatically. 

"  Never  mind.  Pay  me  my  interest,  or  I'll  charge 
you  interest  on  interest.  Remember,  I've  got  your 
note-of-hand !  "  shouted  Beetle. 

"  You  are  a  cold-blooded  Jew,"  Stalky  groaned. 

"  Hush !  "  said  McTurk  very  loudly  indeed,  and 
started  as  Prout  came  upon  them. 
[125] 


STALKY   &    CO. 

"  I  didn't  see  you  in  that  disgraceful  affair  in  the 
form-room  just  now,"  said  he. 

"  What,  sir?  "We're  just  come  up  from  Mr.  King's," 
said  Stalky.  "  Please,  sir,  what  am  I  to  do  about 
prep.  ?  They've  broken  the  desk  you  told  me  to  sit  at, 
and  the  form's  just  swimming  with  ink." 

"  Find  another  seat — find  another  seat.  D'you  ex- 
pect me  to  dry-nurse  you?  I  wish  to  know  whether 
you  are  in  the  habit  of  advancing  money  to  your 
associates,  Beetle  ? " 

"  No,  sir;  not  as  a  general  rule,  sir." 

"  It  is  a  most  reprehensible  habit.  I  thought  that 
my  house,  at  least,  would  be  free  from  it.  Even  with 
my  opinion  of  you,  I  hardly  thought  it  was  one  of  your 


vices." 


"  There's  no  harm  in  lending  money,  sir,  is  there?  " 
et  I  am  not  going  to  bandy  words  with  you  on  your 
notions   of   morality.      How   much    have   you   lent 
Corkran? " 

"  I — I  don't  quite  know,"  said  Beetle.  It  is  diffi- 
cult to  improvise  a  going  concern  on  the  spur  of  the 
minute. 

"  You  seemed  certain  enough  just  now." 
"  I  think  it's  two  and  fourpence,"  said  McTurk, 
with  a  glance  of  cold  scorn  at  Beetle. 

In  the  hopelessly  involved  finances  of  the  study 
there  was  just  that  sum  to  which  both  McTurk  and 
Beetle  laid  claim,  as  their  share  in  the  pledging  of 
[126] 


THE   IMPRESSIONISTS. 

Stalky's  second-best  Sunday  trousers.  But  Stalky  had 
maintained  for  two  terms  that  the  money  was  his 
"commission"  for  effecting  the  pawn;  and  had,  of 
course,  spent  it  on  a  study  "  brew." 

"  Understand  this,  then.  You  are  not  to  continue 
your  operations  as  a  money-lender.  Two  and  four- 
pence,  you  said,  Corkran?  " 

Stalky  had  said  nothing,  and  continued  so  to  do. 

"  Your  influence  for  evil  is  quite  strong  enough 
without  buying  a  hold  over  your  companions."  He 
felt  in  his  pockets,  and  (oh  joy!)  produced  a  florin 
and  fourpence.  "  Bring  me  what  you  call  Corkran's 
note-of-hand,  and  be  thankful  that  I  do  not  carry  the 
matter  any  further.  The  money  is  stopped  from  your 
pocket-money,  Corkran.  The  receipt  to  my  study,  at 
once." 

Little  they  cared!  Two  and  fourpence  in  a  lump 
is  worth  six  weekly  sixpences  any  hungry  day  of  the 
week. 

"But  what  the  dooce  is  a  note-of-hand?"  said 
Beetle.  "  I  only  read  about  it  in  a  book." 

"  Now  you've  jolly  well  got  to  make  one,"  said 
Stalky. 

"  Yes — but  our  ink  don't  turn  black  till  next  day. 
S'pose  he'll  spot  that?" 

"  Not  him.  He's  too  worried,"  said  McTurk. 
"  Sign  your  name  on  a  bit  of  impot-paper,  Stalky,  and 
write,  '  I  O  U  two  and  fourpence.'  Aren't  you  grate- 
[127] 


STALKY   &    CO. 

ful  to  me  for  getting  that  out  of  Front?  Stalky'd 
never  have  paid.  .  .  .  Why,  you  ass !  " 

Mechanically  Beetle  had  handed  over  the  money  to 
Stalky  as  treasurer  of  the  study.  The  custom  of  years 
is  not  lightly  broken. 

In  return  for  the  document,  Prout  expounded  to 
Beetle  the  enormity  of  money-lending,  which,  like 
everything  except  compulsory  cricket,  corrupted 
houses  and  destroyed  good  feeling  among  boys,  made 
youth  cold  and  calculating,  and  opened  the  door  to  all 
evil.  Finally,  did  Beetle  know  of  any  other  cases? 
If  so,  it  was  his  duty  as  proof  of  repentance  to  let  his 
house-master  know.  ]STo  names  need  be  mentioned. 

Beetle  did  not  know — at  least,  he  was  not  quite  sure, 
sir.  Plow  could  he  give  evidence  against  his  friends? 
The  house  might,  of  course — here  he  feigned  an 
anguished  delicacy — be  full  of  it.  He  was  not  in  a 
position  to  say.  He  had  not  met  with  any  open  com- 
petition in  his  trade ;  but  if  Mr.  Prout  considered  it  was 
a  matter  that  affected  the  honor  of  the  house  (Mr. 
Prout  did  consider  it  precisely  that),  perhaps  the 
house-prefects  would  be  better  .  .  . 

He  spun  it  out  till  half-way  through  Drep. 

"  And,"  said  the  amateur  Shylock,  returning  to  the 
form-room  and  dropping  at  Stalky's  side,  "  if  he  don't 
think  the  house  is  putrid  with  it,  I'm  seveiral  Dutch- 
men— that's  all.  .  .  .  I've  been  to  Mr.  Prout's 
study,  sir."  This  to  the  prep.-master.  "  He  said  I 
[128] 


THE  IMPRESSIONISTS. 

could  sit  where  I  liked,  sir.  .  .  .  Oh,  he  is  just 
tricklin'  with  emotion.  .  .  .  Yes,  sir,  I'm  only 
askin'  Corkran  to  let  me  have  a  dip  in  his  ink." 

After  prayers,  on  the  road  to  the  dormitories,  Harri- 
son and  Craye,  senior  house-prefects,  zealous  in  their 
office,  waylaid  them  with  great  anger. 

"  What  have  you  been  doing  to  Heffy  this  time, 
Beetle?  He's  been  jawing  us  all  the  evening." 

"  What  has  His  Serene  Transparency  been  vexin' 
you  for?  "  said  McTurk. 

"  About  Beetle  lendin'  money  to  Stalky,"  began 
Harrison ;  "  and  then  Beetle  went  and  told  him  that 
there  was  any  amount  of  money-lendin'  in  the  house." 

"  No,  you  don't,"  said  Beetle,  sitting  on  a  boot- 
basket.  "  That's  just  what  I  didn't  tell  him.  I  spoke 
the  giddy  truth.  He  asked  me  if  there  was  much  of 
it  in  the  house;  and  I  said  I  didn't  know." 

"  He  thinks  you're  a  set  of  filthy  Shylocks,"  said 
McTurk.  "  It's  just  as  well  for  you  he  don't  think 
you're  burglars.  You  know  he  never  gets  a  notion  out 
of  his  conscientious  old  head." 

"  Well-meanin'  man.  Did  it  all  for  the  best." 
Stalky  curled  gracefully  round  the  stair-rail.  "  Head 
in  a  drain-pipe.  Full  confession  in  the  left  boot.  Bad 
for  the  honor  of  the  house — very." 

"  Shut  up,"  said  Harrison.  "  You  chaps  always  be- 
have as  if  you  were  jawin'  us  when  we  come  to  jaw 
you." 

[129] 


STALKY   &    CO. 

"  You're  a  lot  too  cheeky,"  said  Craye. 

"  I  don't  quite  see  where  the  cheek  comes  in,  ex- 
cept on  your  part,  in  interferin'  with  a  private  mat- 
ter between  me  an'  Beetle  after  it  has  been 
settled  by  Prout."  Stalky  winked  cheerfully  at  the 
others. 

"  That's  the  worst  of  clever  little  swots,"  said  Mc- 
Turk,  addressing  the  gas.  "  They  get  made  prefects 
before  they  have  any  tact,  and  then  they  annoy  chaps 
who  could  really  help  'em  to  look  after  the  honor  of 
the  house." 

"  We  won't  trouble  you  to  do  that !  "  said  Craye 
hotly. 

"  Then  what  are  you  badgerin'  us  for?  "  said  Beetle. 
"  On  your  own  showing,  you've  been  so  beastly  slack, 
looking  after  the  house,  that  Prout  believes  it's  a  nest 
of  money-lenders.  I've  told  him  that  I've  lent  money 
to  Stalky,  and  no  one  else.  I  don't  know  whether  he 
believes  me,  but  that  finishes  my  case.  The  rest  is 
your  business." 

"  Now  we  find  out,"  Stalky's  voice  rose,  "  that 
there  is  apparently  an  organized  conspiracy  through- 
out the  house.  For  aught  we  know,  the  fags  may  be 
lendin'  and  borrowin'  far  beyond  their  means.  We 
aren't  responsible  for  it.  We're  only  the  rank  and 
file." 

"  Are  you  surprised  we  don't  wish  to  associate  with 
the  house?"  said  McTurk,  with  dignity.  "We've 
[130] 


THE   IMPRESSIONISTS. 

kept  ourselves  to  ourselves  in  our  study  till  we  were 
turned  out,  and  now  we  find  ourselves  let  in  for — for 
this  sort  of  thing.  It's  simply  disgraceful." 

"  Then  you  hector  and  bullyrag  us  on  the  stairs," 
said  Stalky,  "  about  matters  that  are  your  business 
entirely.  You  know  we  aren't  prefects." 

"You  threatened  us  with  a  prefect's  lickin'  just 
now,"  said  Beetle,  boldly  inventing  as  he  saw  the 
bewilderment  in  the  faces  of  the  enemy. 

"  And  if  you  expect  you'll  gain  anything  from  us 
by  your  way  of  approachin'  us,  you're  jolly  well  mis- 
taken. That's  all.  Good-night." 

They  clattered  up-stairs,  injured  virtue  on  every 
inch  of  their  backs. 

"  But — but  what  the  dickens  have  we  done  ?  "  said 
Harrison,  amazedly,  to  Craye. 

"  I  don't  know.  Only — it  always  happens  that 
way  when  one  has  anything  to  do  with  them.  They're 
so  beastly  plausible." 

And  Mr.  Prout  called  the  good  boys  into  his  study 
anew,  and  succeeded  in  sinking  both  his  and  their  inno- 
cent minds  ten  fathoms  deeper  in  blindfolded  bedaze- 
ment.  He  spoke  of  steps  and  measures,  of  tone  and 
loyalty  in  the  house  and  to  the  house,  and  urged  them 
to  take  up  the  matter  tactfully. 

So  they  demanded  of  Beetle  whether  he  had  any 
connection  with  any  other  establishment.  Beetle 
promptly  went  to  his  house-master,  and  wished  to  know 
[131] 


STALKY   &    CO. 

by  what  right  Harrison  and  Craye  had  reopened  a 
matter  already  settled  between  him  and  his  house- 
master. In  injured  innocence  no  boy  excelled 
Beetle. 

Then  it  occurred  to  Prout  that  he  might  have  been 
unfair  to  the  culprit,  who  had  not  striven  to  deny 
or  palliate  his  offense.  He  sent  for  Harrison  and 
Craye,  reprehending  them  very  gently  for  the  tone 
they  had  adopted  to  a  repentant  sinner,  and  when 
they  returned  to  their  study,  they  used  the  language 
of  despair.  They  then  made  headlong  inquisition 
through  the  house,  driving  the  fags  to  the  edge  of 
hysterics,  and  unearthing,  with  tremendous  pomp  and 
parade,  the  natural  and  inevitable  system  of  small 
loans  that  prevails  among  small  boys. 

"  You  see,  Harrison,  Thornton  minor  lent  me  a 
penny  last  Saturday,  because  I  was  fined  for  breaking 
the  window;  and  I  spent  it  at  Keyte's.  I  didn't  know 
there  was  any  harm  in  it.  And  Wray  major  borrowed 
twopence  from  me  when  my  uncle  sent  me  a  post-office 
order — I  cashed  it  at  Keyte's — for  five  bob;  but  he'll 
pay  me  back  before  the  holidays.  We  didn't  know 
there  was  anything  wrong  in  it." 

They  waded  through  hours  of  this  kind  of  thing, 
but  found  no  usury,  or  anything  approaching  to 
Beetle's  gorgeous  scale  of  interest.  The  seniors — for 
the  school  had  no  tradition  of  deference  to  prefects 
outside  compulsory  games — told  them  succinctly  to 
[132] 


THE   IMPRESSIONISTS. 

go  about  their  business.  They  would  not  give  evi- 
dence on  any  terms.  Harrison  was  one  idiot,  and 
Craye  was  another;  but  the  greatest  of  all,  they  said, 
was  their  house-master. 

"When  a  house  is  thoroughly  upset,  however  good  its 
conscience,  it  breaks  into  knots  and  coteries — small 
gatherings  in  the  twilight,  box-room  committees,  and 
groups  in  the  corridor.  And  when  from  group  to 
group,  with  an  immense  affectation  of  secrecy,  three 
wicked  boys  steal,  crying  "Cave"  when  there  is  no 
need  of  caution,  and  whispering  "  Don't  tell !  "  on  the 
heels  of  trumpery  confidences  that  instant  invented, 
a  very  fine  air  of  plot  and  intrigue  can  be  woven  round 
such  fe.  house. 

At  the  end  of  a  few  days,  it  dawned  on  Prout  that 
he  Eioved  in  an  atmosphere  of  perpetual  ambush. 
Mysteries  hedged  him  on  all  sides,  warnings  ran  before 
his  heavy  feet,  and  countersigns  were  muttered  behind 
his  attentive  back.  McTurk  and  Stalky  invented  many 
absurd  and  idle  phrases — catch-words  that  swept 
through  the  house  as  fire  through  stubble.  It  was 
a  rare  jest,  and  the  only  practical  outcome  of  the 
Usury  Commission,  that  one  boy  should  say  to  a  friend, 
with  awful  gravity,  "  Do  you  think  there's  much  of  it 
going  on  in  the  house?  "  The  other  would  reply, 
"  Well,  one  can't  be  too  careful,  you  know."  The 
effect  on  a  house-master  of  humane  conscience  and 
good  intent  may  be  imagined.  Again,  a  man  wh<» 
[133] 


STALKY   &    CO. 

has  sincerely  devoted  himself  to  gaining  the  esteem 
of  his  charges  does  not  like  to  hear  himself  described, 
even  at  a  distance,  as  "  Popularity  Prout "  by  a  dark 
and  scowling  Celt  with  a  fluent  tongue.  A  rumor  that 
stories — unusual  stories — are  told  in  the  form-rooms, 
between  the  lights,  by  a  boy  who  does  not  command 
his  confidence,  agitates  such  a  man;  and  even  elaborate 
and  tender  politeness — for  the  courtesy  wise-grown 
men  offer  to  a  bewildered  child  was  the  courtesy  that 
Stalky  wrapped  round  Prout — restores  not  his  peace  of 
mind. 

"  The  tone  of  the  house  seems  changed — changed 
for  the  worse,"  said  Prout  to  Harrison  and  Craye. 
"  Have  you  noticed  it  ?  I  don't  for  an  instant  im- 
pute  " 

He  never  imputed  anything;  but,  on  the  other  hand, 
he  never  did  anything  else,  and,  with  the  best  inten- 
tions in  the  world,  he  had  reduced  the  house-prefects 
to  a  state  as  nearly  bordering  on  nervous  irritation  as 
healthy  boys  can  know.  Worst  of  all,  they  began  at 
times  to  wonder  whether  Stalky  &  Co.  had  not  some 
truth  in  their  often-repeated  assertions  that  Prout  was 
a  gloomy  ass. 

"  As  you  know,  I  am  not  the  kind  of  man  who  puts 
himself  out  for  every  little  thing  he  hears.  /  believe 
in  letting  the  house  work  out  their  own  salvation — 
with  a  light  guiding  hand  on  the  reins,  of  course.  But 
there  is  a  perceptible  lack  of  reverence — a  lower  tone 


THE   IMPRESSIONISTS. 

in  matters  that  touch  the  honor  of  the  house,  a  sort 
of  hardness." 

Oh,  Prout  he  is  a  nobleman,  a  nobleman,  a  nobleman  ! 
Our  Heffy  is  a  nobleman — 
He  does  an  awful  lot, 
Because  his  popularity — 
Oh,  pop-u-pop-u-larity — 
His  giddy  popularity 

Would  suffer  did  he  not ! 

The  study  door  stood  ajar;  and  the  song,  borne  by 
twenty  clear  voices,  came  faint  from  a  form-room. 
The  fags  rather  liked  the  tune;  the  words  were 
Beetle's. 

"  That's  a  thing  no  sensible  man  objects  to,"  said 
Prout  with  a  lop-sided  smile ;  "  but  you  know  straws 
show  which  way  the  wind  blows.  Can  you  trace  it  to 
any  direct  influence?  I  am  speaking  to  you  now  as 
heads  of  the  house." 

"  There  isn't  the  least  doubt  of  it,"  said  Harrison 
angrily.  "  I  know  what  you  mean,  sir.  It  all  began 
when  Number  Five  study  came  to  the  form-rooms. 
There's  no  use  blinkin'  it,  Craye.  You  know  that, 
too." 

"  They  make  things  rather  difficult  for  us,  some- 
times," said  Craye.  "  It's  more  their  manner  than 
anything  else,  that  Harrison  means." 

"  Do  they  hamper  you  in  the  discharge  of  your 
duties,  then?" 

10  [  135  ] 


STALKY   &    CO. 

"  Well,  no,  sir.  They  only  look  on  and  grin — and 
turn  up  their  noses  generally." 

"  Ah,"  said  Prout  sympathetically. 

"  I  think,  sir,"  said  Craye,  plunging  into  the  busi- 
ness boldly,  "  it  would  be  a  great  deal  better  if  they 
were  sent  back  to  their  study — better  for  the  house. 
They  are  rather  old  to  be  knocking  about  the  form- 
rooms." 

"  They  are  younger  than  Orrin,  or  Flint,  and  a 
dozen  others  that  I  can  think  of." 

"  Yes,  sir;  but  that's  different,  somehow.  They're 
rather  influential.  They  have  a  knack  of  upsettin' 
things  in  a  quiet  way  that  one  can't  take  hold  of.  At 
least,  if  one  does — 

"  And  you  think  they  would  be  better  in  their  OWP 
study  again? " 

Emphatically  Harrison  and  Craye  were  of  that  opin 
ion.  As  Harrison  said  to  Craye,  afterwards,  "  They've 
weakened  our  authority.  They're  too  big  to  lick', 
they've  made  an  exhibition  of  us  over  this  usury  busi- 
ness, and  we're  a  laughing-stock  to  the  rest  of  the 
school.  I'm  going  up  (for  Sandhurst,  understood) 
next  term.  They've  managed  to  knock  me  out  of 
half  my  work  already  with  their — their  lunacy.  If 
they  go  back  to  their  study  we  may  have  a  little 
peace." 

"  Hullo,  Harrison."  McTurk  ambled  round  the 
corner,  with  a  roving  eye  on  all  possible  horizons. 


THE   IMPRESSIONISTS. 

"  Bearin'  up,  old  man?  That's  right.  Live  it  down! 
Live  it  down!  " 

"  What  d'you  mean?" 

"  You  look  a  little  pensive,"  said  McTurk.  "  Ex- 
haustin'  job  superintendin'  the  honor  of  the  housev 
ain't  it?  By  the  way,  how  are  you  off  for  mares'- 
nests? " 

"  Look  here,"  said  Harrison,  hoping  for  instant  re- 
ward. "  We've  recommended  Prout  to  let  you  go 
back  to  your  study." 

"  The  dooce  you  have !  And  who  under  the  sun 
are  you  to  interfere  between  us  and  our  house-ma^er? 
Upon  my  Sam,  you  two  try  us  very  hard — you  do,  in- 
deed. Of  course  we  don't  know  how  far  you  abuse 
your  position  to  prejudice  us  with  Mr.  Prout;  but 
when  you  deliberately  stop  me  to  tell  me  you've  been 
makin'  arrangements  behind  our  back — in  secret — 
with  Prout — I — I  don't  know  really  what  we  ought 
to  do." 

"  That's  beastly  unfair !  "  cried  Craye. 

"  It  is."  McTurk  had  adopted  a  ghastly  solemnity 
that  sat  well  on  his  long,  lean  face.  "  Hang  it  all !  A 
prefect's  one  thing  and  an  usher's  another;  but  you 
seem  to  combine  'em.  You  recommend  this — you 
recommend  that !  You  say  how  and  when  we  go  back 
to  our  study!  " 

"  But — but — we  thought  you'd  like  it,  Turkey. 
We  did,  indeed.  You  know  you'll  be  ever  so  much 
[137} 


STALKY   &   CO. 

more  comfortable  there."  Harrison's  voice  was  al- 
most tearful. 

McTurk  turned  away  as  though  to  hide  his  emotions. 

"They're  broke!"  He  hunted  up  Stalky  and 
Beetle  in  a  box-room.  "  They're  sick!  They've  been 
beggin'  Heffy  to  let  us  go  back  to  Number  Five. 
Poor  devils!  Poor  little  devils!  " 

"It's  the  olive  branch,"  was  Stalky's  comment. 
"  It's  the  giddy  white  flag,  by  gum!  Come  to  think  of 
it,  we  have  metagrobolized  'em." 

Just  after  tea  that  day,  Mr.  Prout  sent  for  them  to 
say  that  if  they  chose  to  ruin  their  future  by  neglect- 
ing their  work,  it  was  entirely  their  own  affair.  He 
wished  them,  however,  to  understand  that  their  pres- 
ence in  the  form-rooms  could  not  be  tolerated  one 
hour  longer.  He  personally  did  not  care  to  think  of 
the  time  he  must  spend  in  eliminating  the  traces  of 
their  evil  influences.  How  far  Beetle  had  pandered 
to  the  baser  side  of  youthful  imagination  he  would 
ascertain  later;  and  Beetle  might  be  sure  that  if 
Mr.  Prout  came  across  any  soul-corrupting  conse- 
quences  

"  Consequences  of  what,  sir?  "  said  Beetle,  genu- 
inely bewildered  this  time;  and  McTurk  quietly 
kicked  him  on  the  ankle  for  being  "  fetched "  by 
Prout. 

Beetle,  the  house-master  continued,  knew  very  well 
what  was  intended.  Evil  and  brief  had  been  their 
[138] 


THE   IMPRESSIONISTS. 

careers  under  his  eye;  and  as  one  standing  in  loco 
parentis  to  their  yet  uncontaminated  associates,  he 
was  bound  to  take  his  precautions.  The  return  of 
the  study  key  closed  the  sermon. 

"  But  what  was  the  baser-side-of -imagination  busi- 
ness? "  said  Beetle  on  the  stairs. 

"  I  never  knew  such  an  ass  as  you  are  for  justifyin' 
yourself,"  said  McTurk.  "  I  hope  I  jolly  well  skinned 
your  ankle.  Why  do  you  let  yourself  be  drawn  by 
everybody? " 

"  Draws  be  blowed !  I  must  have  tickled  him  up 
in  some  way  I  didn't  know  about.  If  I'd  had  a  notion 
of  that  before,  of  course  I  could  have  rubbed  it  in 
better.  It's  too  late  now.  What  a  pity !  '  Baser 
side.'  What  was  he  drivin'  at?  " 

"  Never  mind,"  said  Stalky.  "  I  knew  we  could 
make  it  a  happy  little  house.  I  said  so,  remember — 
but  I  swear  I  didn't  think  we'd  do  it  so  soon." 

"  No,"  said  Prout  most  firmly  in  Common-room. 
"  I  maintain  that  Gillett  is  wrong.  True,  I  let  them 
return  to  their  study." 

"  With  your  known  views  on  cribbing,  too?  "  purred 
little  Hartopp.  "  What  an  immoral  compromise !  " 

"  One  moment,"  said  the  Reverend  John.  "  I — we 
— all  of  us  have  exercised  an  absolutely  heart-breaking 
discretion  for  the  last  ten  days.  Now  we  want  to  know. 

Confess — have  you  known  a  happy  minute  since " 

[139] 


STALKY   &   CO. 

u  As  regards  my  house,  I  have  not,"  said  Prout. 
"  But  you  are  entirely  wrong  in  your  estimate  of  those 
boys.  In  justice  to  the  others  —  in  self-defence  -  " 

"  Ha  !  I  said  it  would  come  to  that,"  murmured  the 
Reverend  John. 

"  -  1  was  forced  to  send  them  back.  Their 
moral  influence  was  unspeakable  —  simply  unspeak- 
able." 

And  bit  by  bit  he  told  his  tale,  beginning  with 
Beetle's  usury,  and  ending  with  the  house-prefects' 
appeal. 

"  Beetle  in  the  role  of  Shylock  is  new  to  me,"  said 
King,  with  twitching  lips.  "  I  heard  rumors  of 


"Before?"  said  Prout. 

"  !No,  after  you  had  dealt  with  them;  but  I  was  care- 
ful not  to  inquire.  I  never  interfere  with  - 

"  I  myself,"  said  Hartopp,  "  would  cheerfully  give 
him  five  shillings  if  he  could  work  out  one  simple  sum 
in  compound  interest  without  three  gross  errors." 

"  Why  —  why  —  why  \  "  Mason,  the  mathematical 
master,  stuttered,  a  fierce  joy  on  his  face,  "you've 
been  had  —  precisely  the  same  as  me  \  " 

"  And  so  you  held  an  inquiry?  "  Little  Hartopp's 
voice  drowned  Mason's  ere  Prout  caught  the  import 
of  the  sentence. 

"  The  boy  himself  hinted  at  the  existence  of  a  good 
deal  of  it  in  the  house,"  said  Prout. 
[140] 


THE    IMPRESSIONISTS. 

"  He  is  past  master  in  that  line,"  said  the  chaplain. 
"  But,  as  regards  the  honor  of  the  house — 

"  They  lowered  it  in  a  week.  I  have  striven  to 
build  it  up  for  years.  My  own  house-prefects — and 
boys  do  not  willingly  complain  of  each  other — be- 
sought me  to  get  rid  of  them.  You  say  you  have  their 
confidence,  Gillett:  they  may  tell  you  another  tale. 
As  far  as  I  am  concerned,  they  may  go  to  the  devil  in 
their  own  way.  I'm  sick  and  tired  of  them,"  said 
Prout  bitterly. 

But  it  was  the  Reverend  John,  with  a  smiling  coun- 
tenance, who  went  to  the  devil  just  after  Number  Five 
had  cleared  away  a  very  pleasant  little  brew  (it  cost 
them  two  and  fourpence)  and  was  settling  down  to 
prep. 

"  Come  in,  Padre,  come  in,"  said  Stalky,  thrusting 
forward  the  best  chair.  "  We've  only  met  you  ofiicial- 
like  these  last  ten  days." 

"  You  were  under  sentence,"  said  the  Reverend 
John.  "  I  do  not  consort  with  malefactors." 

"  Ah,  but  we're  restored  again,"  said  McTurk. 
"  Mr.  Prout  has  relented." 

"  Without  a  stain  on  our  characters,"  said  Beetle. 
"  It  was  a  painful  episode,  Padre,  most  painful." 

"  Now,   consider  for  a  while,   and  perpend,   mes 

enfants.     It  is  about  your  characters  that  I've  called 

to-night.     In  the  language  of  the  schools,  what  the 

dooce  have  you  been  up  to  in  Mr.  Prout's  house?     It 

[Ml] 


STALKY   &   CO. 

isn't  anything  to  laugh  over.  He  says  that  you  so 
lowered  the  tone  of  the  house  he  had  to  pack  you.  back 
to  your  studies.  Is  that  true?  " 

"  Every  word  of  it,  Padre." 

"  Don't  be  flippant,  Turkey.  Listen  to  me.  IVe 
told  you  very  often  that  no  boys  in  the  school  have  a 
greater  influence  for  good  or  evil  than  you  have.  You 
know  I  don't  talk  about  ethics  and  moral  codes,  be- 
cause I  don't  believe  that  the  young  of  the  human 
animal  realizes  what  they  mean  for  some  years  to  come. 
All  the  same,  I  don't  want  to  think  you've  been  per- 
verting the  juniors.  Don't  interrupt,  Beetle.  Listen 
to  me!  Mr.  Prout  has  a  notion  that  you  have  been 
corrupting  your  associates  somehow  or  other." 

"  Mr.  Prout  has  so  many  notions,  Padre,"  said 
Beetle  wearily.  "  Which  one  is  this?  " 

"  Well,  he  tells  me  that  he  heard  you  telling  a  story 
in  the  twilight  in  the  form-room,  in  a  whisper.  And 
Orrin  said,  just  as  he  opened  the  door,  '  Shut  up, 
Beetle;  it's  too  beastly.'  Now  then?  " 

"  You  remember  Mrs.  Oliphant's  '  Beleaguered 
City '  that  you  lent  me  last  term?  "  said  Beetle. 

The  Padre  nodded. 

"  I  got  the  notion  out  of  that.  Only,  instead  of  a 
city,  I  made  it  the  Coll.  in  a  fog — besieged  by  ghosts 
of  dead  boys,  who  hauled  chaps  out  of  their  beds  in  the 
dormitory.  All  the  names  are  quite  real.  You  tell 
it  in  a  whisper,  you  know — with  the  names.  Orrin 
[142] 


THE   IMPEESSIONISTS. 

didn't  like  it  one  little  bit.  None  of  'em  have  ever  let 
me  finish  it.  It  gets  just  awful  at  the  end  part." 

"  But  why  in  the  world  didn't  you  explain  to  Mr. 
Prout,  instead  of  leaving  him  under  the  impres- 
eion ? " 

"Padre  Sahib,"  said  McTurk,  "it  isn't  the  least 
good  explainin'  to  Mr.  Prout.  If  he  hasn't  one  im- 
pression, he's  bound  to  have  another." 

"  He'd  do  it  with  the  best  o'  motives.  He's  in  loco 
parentis,"  purred  Stalky. 

"  You  young  demons!  "  the  Reverend  John  replied. 
"And  am  I  to  understand  that  the — the  usury  business 
was  another  of  your  house-master's  impressions?  " 

"  Well— we  helped  a  little  in  that,"  said  Stalky.  "  I 
did  owe  Beetle  two  and  fourpence — at  least,  Beetle 
says  I  did,  but  I  never  intended  to  pay  him.  Then 
we  started  a  bit  of  an  argument  on  the  stairs,  and — 
and  Mr.  Prout  dropped  into  it  accidental.  That  was 
how  it  was,  Padre.  He  paid  me  cash  down  like  a 
giddy  Dook  (stopped  it  out  of  my  pocket-money  just 
the  same),  and  Beetle  gave  him  my  note-of-hand  all 
correct.  I  don't  know  what  happened  after  that." 

"  I  was  too  truthful,"  said  Beetle.  "  I  always  am. 
You  see,  he  was  under  an  impression,  Padre,  and  I  sup- 
pose I  ought  to  have  corrected  that  impression;  but  of 
course  I  couldn't  be  quite  certain  that  his  house  wasn't 
given  over  to  money-lendin',  could  I?  I  thought  the 
house-prefects  might  know  more  about  it  than  I  did. 
[143] 


STALKY   &   CO. 

They  ought  to.  They're  giddy  palladiums  of  public 
schools." 

"  They  did,  too — by  the  time  they'd  finished,"  said 
McTurk.  "  As  nice  a  pair  of  conscientious,  well- 
meanin',  upright,  pure-souled  boys  as  you'd  ever  want 
to  meet,  Padre.  They  turned  the  house  upside  down 
— Harrison  and  Craye — with  the  best  motives  in  the 
world." 

"  They  said  so.  '  They  said  it  very  loud  and  clear. 
They  went  and  shouted  in  our  ear,'  "  said  Stalky. 

"  My  own  private  impression  is  that  all  three  of  you 
will  infallibly  be  hanged,"  said  the  Keverend  John. 

"  Why,  we  didn't  do  anything,"  McTurk  replied. 
"  It  was  all  Mr.  Prout.  Did  you  ever  read  a  book 
about  Japanese  wrestlers?  My  uncle — he's  in  the 
JSTavy — gave  me  a  beauty  once." 

"  Don't  try  to  change  the  subject,  Turkey." 

"  I'm  not,  sir.  I'm  givin'  an  illustration — same  as 
a  sermon.  These  wrestler-chaps  have  got  some  sort  of 
trick  that  lets  the  other  chap  do  all  the  work.  Then 
they  give  a  little  wriggle,  and  he  upsets  himself.  It's 
called  shibbuwichee  or  tokonoma,  or  somethin'.  Mr. 
Prout's  a  shiUbuwicher.  It  isn't  our  fault." 

"  Did  you  suppose  we  went  round  corruptin'  the 
minds  of  the  fags?  "  said  Beetle.  "  They  haven't  any, 
to  begin  with ;  and  if  they  had,  they're  corrupted  long 
ago.  I've  been  a  fag,  Padre." 

"  Well,  I  fancied  I  knew  the  normal  range  of  your 


THE   IMPRESSIONISTS. 

iniquities;  but  if  you  take  so  much  trouble  to  pile  up 
circumstantial  evidence  against  yourselves,  you  can't 
blame  any  one  if " 

"  We  don't  blame  any  one,  Padre.  We  haven't 
said  a  word  against  Mr.  Prout,  have  we?"  Stalky 
looked  at  the  others.  "  We  love  him.  He  hasn't  a 
notion  how  we  love  him." 

"  H'm!  You  dissemble  your  love  very  well.  Have 
you  ever  thought  who  got  you  turned  out  of  your 
study  in  the  first  place?  " 

"  It  was  Mr.  Prout  turned  us  out,"  said  Stalky,  with 
significance. 

"  Well,  I  was  that  man.  I  didn't  mean  it;  but  some 
words  of  mine,  I'm  afraid,  gave  Mr.  Prout  the  im- 
pression  

dumber  Five  laughed  aloud. 

"  You  see  it's  just  the  same  thing  with  you,  Padre," 
said  McTurk.  "  He  is  quick  to  get  an  impression, 
ain't  he?  But  you  mustn't  think  we  don't  love  him, 
'cause  we  do.  There  isn't  an  ounce  of  vice  about 
him." 

A  double  knock  fell  on  the  door. 

"  The  Head  to  see  Number  Five  study  in  his  study 
at  once,"  said  the  voice  of  Foxy,  the  school  ser- 
geant. 

"  Whew!  "  said  the  Reverend  John.  "  It  seems  to 
me  that  there  is  a  great  deal  of  trouble  coming  for  some 
people." 

[145] 


STALKY   &   CO. 

"  My  word!  Mr.  Prout's  gone  and  told  the  Head," 
said  Stalky.  "  He's  a  moral  double-ender.  Not  fair, 
luggin'  the  Head  into  a  house-row." 

"  I  should  recommend  a  copy-book  on  a — h'm — 
safe  and  certain  part/'  said  the  Reverend  John  dis- 
interestedly. 

"  Huh !  He  licks  across  the  shoulders,  an'  it  would 
slam  like  a  beastly  barn-door,"  said  Beetle.  "  Good- 
night, Padre.  We're  in  for  it." 

Once  more  they  stood  in  the  presence  of  the  Head — 
Belial,  Mammon,  and  Lucifer.  But  they  had  to  deal 
with  a  man  more  subtle  than  them  all.  Mr.  Prout  had 
talked  to  him,  heavily  and  sadly,  for  half  an  hour;  and 
the  Head  had  seen  all  that  was  hidden  from  the  house- 
master. 

"  You've  been  bothering  Mr.  Prout,"  he  said  pen' 
sively.  "  House-masters  aren't  here  to  be  bothered  by 
boys  more  than  is  necessary.  I  don't  like  being  both- 
ered by  these  things.  You  are  bothering  me.  That 
is  a  very  serious  offense.  You  see  it?  " 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  Well,  now,  I  purpose  to  bother  you,  on  personal 
and  private  grounds,  because  you  have  broken  into  my 
time.  You  are  much  too  big  to  lick,  so  I  suppose  I 
shall  have  to  mark  my  displeasure  in  some  other  way. 
Say,  a  thousand  lines  apiece,  a  week's  gating,  and  a 
few  things  of  that  kind.  Much  too  big  to  lick,  aren't 
you?  " 

[U6] 


THE   IMPRESSIONISTS. 

"  Oh,  no,  sir,"  said  Stalky  cheerfully;  for  a  week's 
gating  in  the  summer  term  is  serious. 

"  Ve-ry  good.  Then  we  will  do  what  we  can.  I 
wish  you  wouldn't  bother  me." 

It  was  a  fair,  sustained,  equable  stroke,  with  a  little 
draw  to  it,  but  what  they  felt  most  was  his  unfairness 
in  stopping  to  talk  between  executions.  Thus : 

"  Among  the — lower  classes  this  would  lay  me  open 
to  a  charge  of — assault.  You  should  be  more  grateful 
for  your — privileges  than  you  are.  There  is  a  limit — 
one  finds  it  by  experience,  Beetle — beyond  which  it 
is  never  safe  to  pursue  private  vendettas,  because — 
don't  move — sooner  or  later  one  comes — into  collision 
with  the — higher  authority,  who  has  studied  the  ani- 
mal. Et  ego — McTurk,  please — in  Arcadia  vixi. 
There's  a  certain  flagrant  injustice  about  this  that 
ought  to  appeal  to — your  temperament.  And  that's 
all!  You  will  tell  your  house-master  that  you  have 
been  formally  caned  by  me." 

"  My  word!  "  said  McTurk,  wriggling  his  shoulder- 
blades  all  down  the  corridor.  "That  was  business! 
The  Prooshan  Bates  has  an  infernal  straight  eye." 

"  Wasn't  it  wily  of  me  to  ask  for  the  lickin',"  said 
Stalky,  "  instead  of  those  impots?  " 

"  Rot !  We  were  in  for  it  from  the  first.  /  knew 
the  cock  of  his  old  eye,"  said  Beetle.  "  I  was  within 
an  inch  of  blubbing." 

"  Well,  I  didn't  exactly  smile,"  Stalky  confessed. 
[147]   ' 


STALKY   &    CO. 

"  Let's  go  down  to  the  lavatory  and  have  a  look  at 
the  damage.  One  of  us  can  hold  the  glass  and  t'others 
can  squint." 

They  proceeded  on  these  lines  for  some  ten  minutes. 
The  wales  were  very  red  and  very  level.  There  was 
not  a  penny  to  choose  between  any  of  them  for  thor- 
oughness, efficiency,  and  a  certain  clarity  of  outline 
that  stamps  the  work  of  the  artist. 

"What  are  you  doing  down  there?"  Mr.  Prout 
was  at  the  head  of  the  lavatory  stairs,  attracted  by  the 
noise  of  splashing. 

"  We've  only  been  caned  by  the  Head,  sir,  and  we're 
washing  off  the  blood.  The  Head  said  we  were  to  tell 
you.  We  were  coming  to  report  ourselves  in  a  min- 
ute, sir.  (Sotto  voce.)  That's  a  score  for  Heffy!  " 

"  Well,  he  deserves  to  score  something,  poor  devil," 
said  McTurk,  putting  on  his  shirt.  "  We've  sweated 
a  stone  and  a  half  off  him  since  we  began." 

"  But  look  here,  why  aren't  we  wrathy  with  the 
Head  ?  He  said  it  was  a  flagrant  injustice.  So  it  is  I  " 
said  Beetle. 

"  Dear  man,"  said  McTurk,  and  vouchsafed  no 
further  answer. 

It  was  Stalky  who  laughed  till  he  had  to  hold  on  by 
the  edge  of  a  basin. 

"You  are  a  funny  ass!  What's  that  for?"  said 
Beetle. 

"  I'm — I'm  thinking  of  the  flagrant  injustice  of  it !  " 
[148] 


THE   MORAL   REFORMERS. 

THERE  was  no  disguising  the  defeat.  The  victory 
was  to  Prout,  but  they  grudged  it  not.  If  he  had 
broken  the  rules  of  the  game  by  calling  in  the  Head, 
they  had  had  a  good  run  for  their  money. 

The  Eeverend  John  sought  the  earliest  oppor- 
tunity of  talking  things  over.  Members  of  a  bach- 
elor Common-room,  of  a  school  where  masters' 
studies  are  designedly  dotted  among  studies  and 
form-rooms,  can,  if  they  choose,  see  a  great  deal  of 
their  charges.  Number  Five  had  spent  some  cau- 
tious years  in  testing  the  Eeverend  John.  He  was 
emphatically  a  gentleman.  He  knocked  at  a  study 
door  before  entering  ;  he  comported  himself  as  a 
visitor  and  not  a  strayed  lictor  ;  he  never  prosed, 
and  he  never  carried  over  into  official  life  the  confi- 
dences of  idle  hours.  Prout  was  ever  an  unmiti- 
gated nuisance  ;  King  came  solely  as  an  avenger  of 
blood  ;  even  little  Hartopp,  talking  natural  history, 
seldom  forgot  his  office  ;  but  the  Reverend  John 
was  a  guest  desired  and  beloved  by  Number 
Five. 

[149] 


STALKY   &    CO. 

Behold  him,  then,  in  their  only  arm-chair,  a  bent 
briar  between  his  teeth,  chin  down  in  three  folds  on 
his  clerical  collar,  and  blowing  like  an  amiable 
whale,  while  Number  Five  discoursed  of  life  as  it 
appeared  to  them,  and  specially  of  that  last  inter- 
view with  the  Head — in  the  matter  of  usury. 

"  One  licking  once  a  week  would  do  you  an  im- 
mense amount  of  good,"  he  said,  twinkling  and 
shaking  all  over  ;  ' '  and,  as  you  say,  you  were  en- 
tirely in  the  right.-" 

"Ka-ather,  Padre  !  "We  could  have  proved  it  if 
he'd  let  us  talk,"  said  Stalky;  "but  he  didn't. 
The  Head's  a  downy  bird." 

"He  understands  you  perfectly.  Ho!  hoi 
"Well,  you  worked  hard  enough  for  it." 

"But  he's  awfully  fair.  He  doesn't  lick  a  chap 
in  the  morning  an'  preach  at  him  in  the  afternoon," 
said  Beetle. 

"  He  can't ;  he  ain't  in  Orders,  thank  goodness," 
said  McTurk.  Number  Five  held  the  very  strongest 
views  on  clerical  head-masters,  and  were  ever  ready 
to  meet  their  pastor  in  argument. 

"Almost  all  other  schools  have  clerical  Heads," 
said  the  Eeverend  John  gently. 

"It    isn't    fair  on   the  chaps,"    Stalky  replied. 
"Makes  'em  sulky.     Of  course  it's  different  with 
you,  sir.    You  belong  to  the  school — same  as  we  do. 
I  mean  ordinary  clergymen." 
[150] 


THE    MOEAL    REFORMERS. 

"Well,  I  am  a  most  ordinary  clergyman  ;  and 
Mr.  Hartopp's  in  Orders,  too." 

"  Ye — es,  but  he  took  'em  after  he  came  to  the 
Coll.  We  saw  him  go  up  for  his  exam.  That's  all 
right,"  said  Beetle.  "But  just  think  if  the  Head 
went  and  got  ordained  !  " 

"  What  would  happen,  Beetle  ?  " 

"Oh,  the  Coll.  'ud  go  to  pieces  in  a  year,  sir. 
There's  no  doubt  o'  that." 

"  How  d'you  know?  "  The  Reverend  John  was 
smiling. 

1 1  We've  been  here  nearly  six  years  now.  There 
are  precious  few  things  about  the  Coll.  we  don't 
know,"  Stalky  replied.  "  Why,  even  you  came  the 
term  after  I  did,  sir.  I  remember  your  asking  our 
names  in  form  your  first  lesson.  Mr.  King,  Mr. 
Proutj  and  the  Head,  of  course,  are  the  only  mas- 
ters senior  to  us — in  that  way." 

"  Yes,  we've  changed  a  good  deal — in  Common- 
room." 

"  Huh  !  "  said  Beetle  with  a  grunt.  "  They  came 
here,  an'  they  went  away  to  get  married.  Jolly 
good  riddance,  too  !  " 

"  Doesn't  our  Beetle  hold  with  matrimony  ?  " 

"  No,  Padre  ;  don't  make  fun  of  me.  I've  met 
chaps  in  the  holidaj^s  who've  got  married  house- 
masters. It's  perfectly  awful  !  They  have  babies 
and  teething  and  measles  and  all  that  sort  of  thing 
11  [151] 


STALKY   &    CO. 

right  bung  in  the  school ;  and  the  masters'  wives 
give  tea-parties — tea-parties,  Padre  ! — and  ask  the 
chaps  to  breakfast." 

"That  don't  matter  so  much,"  said  Stalky. 
"  But  the  house-masters  let  their  houses  alone,  and 
they  leave  everything  to  the  prefects.  Why,  in  one 
school,  a  chap  told  me,  there  were  big  baize  doors 
and  a  passage  about  a  mile  long  between  the  house 
and  the  master's  house.  They  could  do  just  what 
they  pleased." 

"  Satan  rebuking  sin  with  a  vengeance." 

"  Oh,,  larks  are  right  enough  ;  but  you  know 
what  we  mean,  Padre.  After  a  bit  it  gets  worse 
an'  worse.  Then  there's  a  big  bust-up  and  a  row 
that  gets  into  the  papers,  and  a  lot  of  chaps  are 
expelled,  you  know." 

"  Always  the  wrong  un's  ;  don't  forget  that. 
Have  a  cup  of  cocoa,  Padre?"  said  McTurk  with 
the  kettle. 

"No,  thanks  ;  I'm  smoking.  Always  the  wrong 
'uns?  Pro-ceed,  my  Stalky." 

"And  then" — Stalky  warmed  to  the  work — 
"  everybody  says,  '"Who'd  ha'  thought  it?  Shock- 
in'  boys  !  Wicked  little  kids  ! '  It  all  comes  of 
havin'  married  house-masters,  /think." 

"A  Daniel  come  to  judgment." 

"  But  it  does,"  McTurk  interrupted.  "  I've  met 
chaps  in  the  holidays,  an'  they've  told  me  the  same 
[152] 


THE    MORAL    REFORMERS. 

tiling.  It  looks  awfully  pretty  for  one's  people  to 
see — a  nice  separate  house  with  a  nice  lady  in  charge, 
an'  all  that.  But  it  isn't.  It  takes  the  house-mas- 
ters off  their  work,  and  it  gives  the  prefects  a  heap 
too  much  power,  an' — an' — it  rots  up  everything. 
You  see,  it  isn't  as  if  we  were  just  an  ordinary 
school.  We  take  crammers'  rejections  as  well  as 
good  little  boys  like  Stalky.  We've  got  to  do  that 
to  make  our  name,  of  course,  and  we  get  'em  into 
Sandhurst  somehow  or  other,  don't  we?  " 

"  True,  O  Turk.  Like  a  book  thou  talkest,  Tur- 
key." 

"  And  so  we  want  rather  different  masters,  don't 
you  think  so,  to  other  places  ?  We  aren't  like  the 
rest  of  the  schools." 

"It  leads  to  all  sorts  of  bullyin',  too,  a  chap  told 
me,"  said  Beetle. 

"Well,  you  do  need  most  of  a  single  man's  time, 
I  must  say."  The  Eeverend  John  considered  his 
hosts  critically.  "But  do  you  never  feel  that  the 
world — the  Common-room — is  too  much  with  you 
sometimes?  " 

"Not  exactly — in  summer,  anyhow."  Stalky 's 
eye  roved  contentedly  to  the  window.  "  Our 
bounds  are  pretty  big,  too,  and  they  leave  us  to 
ourselves  a  good  deal." 

"  For  example,  here  am  I  sitting  in  your  study, 
very  much  in  your  way,  eh  ?  " 
[153] 


STALKY   &    CO. 

"  Indeed  you  aren't,  Padre.  Sit  down.  Don't 
go,  sir.  You  know  we're  glad  whenever  you  come." 

There  was  no  doubting  the  sincerity  of  the  voices. 
The  Reverend  John  flushed  a  little  with  pleasure 
and  refilled  his  briar. 

"And  we  generally  know  where  the  Comnion- 
room  are,"  said  Beetle  triumphantly.  "Didn't 
you  come  through  our  lower  dormitories  last  night 
after  ten,  sir?" 

"  I  went  to  smoke  a  pipe  with  your  house-master. 
No,  I  didn't  give  him  any  impressions.  I  took  a 
short  cut  through  your  dormitories." 

"  I  sniffed  a  whiff  of  'baccy,  this  mornin'.  Yours 
is  stronger  than  Mr.  Prout's.  /knew,"  said  Beetle, 
wagging  his  head. 

"Good  heavens!"  said  the  Reverend  John  ab- 
sently. It  was  some  years  before  Beetle  perceived 
that  this  was  rather  a  tribute  to  innocence  than  ob- 
servation. The  long,  light,  blindless  dormitories, 
devoid  of  inner  doors,  were  crossed  at  all  hours  of 
the  night  by  masters  visiting  one  another  ;  for  bach- 
elors sit  up  later  than  married  folk.  Beetle  had 
never  dreamed  that  there  might  be  a  purpose  in  this 
steady  policing. 

"Talking  about  bullying,"  the  Reverend  John 
resumed,  "you  all  caught  it  pretty  hot  when  you 
were  fags,  didn't  you?  " 

"Well,  we  must  have  been  rather  awful  little 
[154] 


"  The  bleatin1  of  the  kid  excites  the  tiger." 


THE   MOEAL   REFORMERS. 

beasts,"  said  Beetle,  looking  serenely  over  the  gulf 
between  eleven  and  sixteen.  "  My  Hat,  what  bullies 
they  were  then — Fairburn,  '  Gobby  '  Maunsell,  and 
all  that  gang  !  " 

"  'Member  when  '  Gobby '  called  us  the  Three 
Blind  Mice,  and  we  had  to  get  up  on  the  lockers 
and  sing  while  he  buzzed  inkpots  at  us?"  said 
Stalky.  "  They  were  bullies  if  you  like  !  " 

"But  there  isn't  any  of  it  now,"  said  McTurk 
soothingly. 

"  That's  where  you  make  a  mistake.  "We're  all 
inclined  to  say  that  everything  is  all  right  as  long 
as  we  aren't  ourselves  hurt.  I  sometimes  wonder  if 
it  is  extinct — bullying." 

"Fags  bully  each  other  horrid;  but  the  upper 
forms  are  supposed  to  be  swottin'  for  exams. 
They've  got  something  else  to  think  about, "  said 
Beetle. 

"Why?  What  do  you  think?"  Stalky  was 
watching  the  chaplain's  face. 

"I  have  my  doubts."  Then,  explosively,  "On 
my  word,  for  three  moderately  intelligent  boys  you 
aren't  very  observant.  I  suppose  you  were  too  busy 
making  things  warm  for  your  house-master  to  see 
what  lay  under  your  noses  when  you  were  in  the 
form-rooms  last  week?  " 

"What,  sir?  I — I  swear  we  didn't  see  any- 
thing," said  Beetle. 

[155] 


STALKY   &    CO. 

"  Then  I'd  advise  you  to  look.  "When  a  little 
chap  is  whimpering  in  a  corner  and  wears  his 
clothes  like  rags,  and  never  does  any  work,  and  is 
notoriously  the  dirtiest  little  '  corridor-caution '  in 
the  Coll.,  something's  wrong  somewhere." 

"  That's  Clewer,"  said  McTurk  under  his  breath. 

"  Yes,  Clewer.  He  comes  to  me  for  his  French. 
It's  his  first  term,  and  he's  almost  as  complete  a 
wreck  as  you  were,  Beetle.  He's  not  naturally 
clever,  but  he  has  been  hammered  till  he's  nearly  an 
idiot." 

"  Oh,  no.  They  sham  silly  to  get  off  more  lick- 
ings," said  Beetle,  "/know  that." 

"I've  never  actually  seen  him  knocked  about," 
said  the  Reverend  John. 

"The  genuine  article  don't  do  that  in  public," 
said  Beetle.  "  Fairburn  never  touched  me  when 
any  one  was  looking  on." 

"You  needn't  swagger  about  it,  Beetle,"  said 
McTurk.  "  We  all  caught  it  in  our  time. " 

"  But  I  got  it  worse  than  any  one,"  said  Beetle. 
"  If  you  want  an  authority  on  bullyin',  Padre,  come 
to  me.  Corkscrews  —  brush-drill  —  keys  —  head- 
knucklin' — arm-twistin' — rockin' — Ag  Ags — and  all 
the  rest  of  it." 

"  Yes.  I  do  want  you  as  an  authority,  or  rather 
I  want  your  authority  to  stop  it — all  of  you." 

"What  about  Abana  and  Pharpar,  Padre — Har« 
[156] 


THE   MOEAL   REFORMERS. 

rison  and  Craye?  They  are  Mr.  Prout's  pets,v 
said  McTurk  a  little  bitterly.  "  We  aren't  even 
sub-prefects." 

"I've  considered  that,  but  on  the  other  hand, 
since  most  bullying  is  mere  thoughtlessness " 

"  Wot  one  little  bit  of  it,  Padre,"  said  McTurk. 
"  Bullies  like  bullyin'.  They  mean  it.  They  think 
it  up  in  lesson  and  practise  it  in  the  quarters." 

"  Never  mind.  If  the  thing  goes  up  to  the  pre- 
fects it  may  make  another  house-row.  You've  had 
one  already.  Don't  laugh.  Listen  to  me.  I  ask 
you — my  own  Tenth  Legion — to  take  the  thing  up 
quietly.  I  want  little  Clewer  made  to  look  fairly 
clean  and  decent " 

"Blowed  if  /wash  him  !  "  whispered  Stalky. 

"  Decent  and.  self-respecting.  As  for  the  other 
boy,  whoever  he  is,  you  can  use  your  influence ' ' — 
a  purely  secular  light  flickered  in  the  chaplain's 
eye — "  in  any  way  you  please  to — to  dissuade  him. 
That's  all.  I'll  leave  it  to  you.  Good-night,  mes 
enfants. ' ' 

"Well,  what  are  we  goin'  to  do?"  Number 
Five  stared  at  each  other. 

"  Young  Clewer  would  give  his  eyes  for  a  place 
to  be  quiet  in.  fknow  that,"  said  Beetle.  "  If  we 
made  him  a  study-fag,  eh  ?  " 

"  No  !  "  said  McTurk  firmly.     "  He's  a  dirty  lit- 


STALKY   &    CO. 

tie  brute,  and  he'd  mess  up  everything.  Besides, 
we  ain't  goin'  to  have  any  beastly  Erickin'.  D'you 
want  to  walk  about  with  your  arm  round  his 
neck?" 

"  He'd  clean  out  the  jam-pots,  anyhow  ;  an'  the 
burnt-porridge  saucepan — it's  filthy  now." 

"'Not  good  enough,"  said  Stalky,  bringing  up 
both  heels  with  a  crash  on  the  table.  "  If  we  find 
the  merry  jester  who's  been  bullyin'  him  an'  make 
him  happy,  that'll  be  all  right.  Why  didn't  we 
spot  him  when  we  were  in  the  form-rooms, 
though?" 

"  Maybe  a  lot  of  fags  have  made  a  dead  set  at 
Clewer.  They  do  that  sometimes. " 

"  Then  we'll  have  to  kick  the  whole  of  the  lower 
school  in  our  house — on  spec.  Come  on,"  said  Mc- 
Turk. 

"  Keep  your  hair  on  !  We  mustn't  make  a  fuss 
about  the  biznai.  Whoever  it  is  he's  kept  quiet  or 
we'd  have  seen  him,"  said  Stalky.  "We'll  walk 
round  and  sniff  about  till  we're  sure." 

They  drew  the  house  form-rooms,  accounting  for 
every  junior  and  senior  against  whom  they  had  sus- 
picions ;  investigated,  at  Beetle's  suggestion,  the 
lavatories  and  box-rooms,  but  without  result. 
Everybody  seemed  to  be  present  save  Clewer. 

"Bum!"  said  Stalky,  pausing  outside  a  study 
door.  "  GoUy  !  " 

[158] 


THE   MORAL   REFORMERS. 

A  thin  piping  mixed  with  tears  came  muffled 
through  the  panels. 

' '  As  beautiful  Kitty  one  morning  was  trip- 
ping  " 

"  Louder,  you  young  devil,  or  I'll  buzz  a  book  at 
you  !  " 

"  With  a  pitcher  of  milk —  Oh,  Campbell,  please 
don't  !  To  the  fair  of " 

A  book  crashed  on  something  soft,  and  squeals 
arose. 

"  Well,  I  never  thought  it  was  a  study -chap,  any- 
how. That  accounts  for  our  not  spotting  him,"  said 
Beetle.  "  Sefton  and  Campbell  are  rather  hefty 
chaps  to  tackle.  Besides,  one  can't  go  into  their 
study  like  a  form-room." 

"What  swine!"  McTurk  listened.  "Where's 
the  fun  of  it?  I  suppose  Clewer's  faggin'  for 
them." 

"They  aren't  prefects.  That's  one  good  job," 
said  Stalky,  with  his  war-grin.  "  Sefton  and  Camp- 
bell !  Urn  !  Campbell  and  Sefton  !  Ah  !  One  of 
'em's  a  crammer's  pup." 

The  two  were  precocious  hairy  youths  between 
seventeen  and  eighteen,  sent  to  the  school  in  despair 
by  parents  who  hoped  that  six  months'  steady  cram 
might,  perhaps,  jockey  them  into  Sandhurst.  Nomi- 
nally they  were  in  Mr.  Front's  house  ;  actually  they 
were  under  the  Head's  eye  ;  and  since  he  was  very 
[159J 


STALKY    &    CO. 

careful  never  to  promote  strange  new  boys  to  pre- 
fectships,  they  considered  they  had  a  grievance 
against  the  school.  Sefton  had  spent  three  months 
with  a  London  crammer,  and  the  tale  of  his  adven- 
tures there  lost  nothing  in  the  telling.  Campbell, 
who  had  a  fine  taste  in  clothes  and  a  fluent  vocabu- 
lary, followed  his  lead  in  looking  down  loftily  on 
the  rest  of  the  world.  This  was  only  their  second 
term,  and  the  school,  used  to  what  it  profanely 
called  "crammers'  pups,"  had  treated  them  with 
rather  galling  reserve.  But  their  whiskers — Sefton 
owned  a  real  razor — and  their  mustaches  were  be- 
yond question  impressive. 

"Shall  we  go  in  an'  dissuade  'em?"  McTurk 
asked.  "I've  never  had  much  to  do  with  'em,  but 
I'll  bet  my  hat  Campbell's  a  funk." 

"No — o!  That's  oratio  directa,"  said  Stalky, 
shaking  his  head.  "  I  like  oratio  obliqua.  'Sides, 
where'd  our  moral  influence  be  then?  Think  o' 
that!" 

"Rot!  What  are  you  goin'  to  do?"  Beetle 
turned  into  Lower  Number  Nine  form-room,  next 
door  to  the  study. 

"  Me  ?  "  The  lights  of  war  flickered  over  Stalky 's 
face.  "  Oh,  I  want  to  jape  with  'em.  Shut  up  a 
bit  !  " 

He  drove  his  hands  into  his  pockets  and  stared  out 
of  window  at  the  sea,  whistling  between  his  teeth. 
[160] 


THE   MOKAL   REFORMERS. 

Then  a  foot  tapped  the  floor  ;  one  shoulder  lifted  ; 
he  wheeled,  and  began  the  short  quick  double- 
shuffle — the  war-dance  of  Stalky  in  meditation. 
Thrice  he  crossed  the  empty  form-room,  with  com- 
pressed lips  and  expanded  nostrils,  swaying  to  the 
quick-step.  Then  he  halted  before  the  dumb  Beetle 
and  softly  knuckled  his  head,  Beetle  bowing  to  the 
strokes.  McTurk  nursed  one  knee  and  rocked  to  and 
fro.  They  could  hear  Clewer  howling  as  though 
his  heart  would  break. 

"Beetle  is  the  sacrifice,"  Stalky  said  at  last. 
"  I'm  sorry  for  you,  Beetle.  'Member  Galton's 
1  Art  of  Travel '  [one  of  the  forms  had  been  study- 
ing that  pleasant  work]  an'  the  kid  whose  bleatin' 
excited  the  tiger?  " 

"  Oh,  curse  !  "  said  Beetle  uneasily.  It  was  not 
his  first  season  as  a  sacrifice.  "Can't  you  get  on 
without  me?" 

"  'Fraid  not,  Beetle,  dear.  You've  got  to  be 
bullied  by  Turkey  an'  me.  The  more  you  howl,  o' 
course,  the  better  it'll  be.  Turkey,  go  an'  covet  a 
stump  and  a  box-rope  from  somewhere.  We'll  tie 
him  up  for  a  kill — a  la  Galton.  'Member  when 
'  Molly '  Fairburn  made  us  cock-fight  with  our  shoes 
off,  an'  tied  up  our  knees  ?  ' ' 

"  But  that  hurt  like  sin." 

"  Course  it  did.  "What  a  clever  chap  you  are, 
Beetle  !  Turkey '11  knock  you  all  over  the  place. 
[161] 


STALKY   &   CO. 

'Member  we've  had  a  big  row  all  round,  an'  I've 
trapped  you  into  doin'  this.  Lend  us  your  wipe." 

Beetle  was  trussed  for  cock-fighting  ;  but,  in  ad- 
dition to  the  transverse  stump  betAveen  elbow  and 
knee,  his  knees  were  bound  with  a  box-rope.  In 
this  posture,  at  a  push  from  Stalky  he  rolled  over 
sideways,  covering  himself  with  dust. 

"  Ruffle  his  hair,  Turkey.  Now  you  get  down, 
too.  '  The  bleatin'  of  the  kid  excites  the  tiger. '  You 
two  are  in  such  a  sweatin'  wax  with  me  that  you 
only  curse.  'Member  that.  I'll  tickle  you  up  with 
a  stump.  You'll  have  to  blub,  Beetle." 

"Right  O  !  I'll  work  up  to  it  in  half  a  shake," 
said  Beetle. 

"  Now  begin — and  remember  the  bleatin'  o'  the 
kid." 

"  Shut  up,  you  brutes  !  Let  me  up  !  You've 
nearly  cut  my  knees  off.  Oh,  you  are  beastly 
cads  !  Do  shut  up.  'Tisn't  a  joke  !  "  Beetle's 
protest  was,  in  tone,  a  work  of  art. 

11  Give  it  to  him,  Turkey  !  Kick  him  !  Roll  him 
over  !  Kill  him  !  Don't  funk,  Beetle,  you  brute. 
Kick  him  again,  Turkey. ' ' 

"He's  not  blubbin'  really.  Roll  up,  Beetle,  or 
I'll  kick  you  into  the  fender,"  roared  McTurk. 

They  made  a  hideous  noise  among  them,  and  the 
bait  allured  their  quarry. 

"  Hullo  !  What's  the  giddy  jest  ?  "  Sefton  and 
[162]' 


THE   MORAL   REFORMERS. 

Campbell  entered  to  find  Beetle  on  his  side,  his  head 
against  the  fender,  weeping  copiously,  while  Mc- 
Turk  prodded  him  in  the  back  with  his  toes. 

"It's  only  Beetle,"  Stalky  explained.  "He's 
shammin'  hurt.  I  can't  get  Turkey  to  go  for  him 
properly. ' ' 

Sefton  promptly  kicked  both  boys,  and  his  face 
lighted.  "  All  right,  I'll  attend  to  'em.  Get  up 
an'  cock-fight,  you  two.  Give  me  the  stump.  I'll 
tickle  'em.  Here's  a  giddy  jest  !  Come  on,  Camp- 
bell. Let's  cook 'em." 

Then  McTurk  turned  on  Stalky  and  called  him 
very  evil  names. 

"  You  said  you  were  goin'  to  cock-fight  too, 
Stalky.  Come  on  !  " 

"  More  ass  you  for  believin'  me,  then  !  "  shrieked 
Stalky. 

"  Have  you  chaps  had  a  row?  "  said  Campbell. 

"Kow?"  said  Stalky.  "  Huh  !  I'm  only  edu- 
catin'  them.  D'you  know  anythin'  about  cock- 
fighting,  Seffy?" 

"  Do  I  know  ?  Why,  at  Maclagan's,  where  I  was 
crammin'  in  town,  we  used  to  cock-fight  in  his 
drawing-room,  and  little  Maclagan  daren't  say  any- 
thing. But  Ave  were  just  the  same  as  men  there,  of 
course.  Do  I  know?  /'ll  show  you." 

"  Can't  I  get  up  ?  "  moaned  Beetle,  as  Stalky  sat 
on  his  shoulder. 

[163] 


STALKY   &   CO. 

"Don't  jaw,  you  fat  piffler.  You're  going  to 
fight  Seffy." 

"  He'U  slay  me  !  " 

"Oh,  lug  'em  into  our  study,"  said  Campbell. 
"  It's  nice  an'  quiet  in  there.  I'll  cock-fight  Tur- 
key. This  is  an  improvement  on  young  Clewer." 

"  Right  O  !  I  move  it's  shoes-off  for  them  an* 
jhoes-on  for  us,"  said  Sefton  joyously,  and  the  two 
were  flung  down  on  the  study  floor.  Stalky  rolled 
them  behind  an  arm-chair. 

"Now  I'll  tie  you  two  up  an'  direct  the  bull- 
fight. Golly,  what  wrists  you  have,  Seffy.  They're 
too  thick  for  a  wipe  ;  got  a  box-rope  ?  "  said  he. 

"Lots  in  the  corner,"  Sefton  replied.  "Hurry 
up  !  Stop  blubbin',  you  brute,  Beetle.  We're 
goin'  to  have  a  giddy  campaign.  Losers  have  to 
sing  for  the  winners — sing  odes  in  honor  of  the  con- 
queror. You  call  yourself  a  beastly  poet,  don't  you, 
Beetle?  I'll  poet  you."  He  wriggled  into  posi- 
tion by  Campbell's  side. 

Swiftly  and  scientifically  the  stumps  were  thrust 
through  the  natural  crooks,  and  the  wrists  tied  with 
well-stretched  box-ropes  to  an  accompaniment  of 
insults  from  McTurk,  bound,  betrayed,  and  voluble 
behind  the  chair. 

Stalky  set  away  Campbell  and  Sefton,  and  strode 
over  to  his  allies,  locking  the  door  on  the  way. 

"And  that's  all  right,"  said  he  in  a  changed  voice. 


THE   MORAL   REFORMERS. 

"What  the  devil ?"  Sef ton  began.    Beetle's 

false  tears  had  ceased  ;  McTurk,  smiling,  was  on 
his  feet.  Together  they  bound  the  knees  and 
ankles  of  the  enemy  even  more  straitly. 

Stalky  took  the  arm-chair  and  contemplated  the 
scene  with  his  blandest  smile.  A  man  trussed  for 
cock-fighting  is,  perhaps,  the  most  helpless  thing  in 
the  world. 

"  '  The  bleatin'  of  the  kid  excites  the  tiger.'  Oh, 
you  frabjous  asses  !  "  He  lay  back  and  laughed  till 
he  could  no  more.  The  victims  took  in  the  situa- 
tion but  slowly. 

"  We'll  give  you  the  finest  lickin'  you  ever  had  in 
your  young  lives  when  we  get  up  !  "  thundered  Sef- 
ton  from  the  floor.  "  You'll  laugh  the  other  side  ot 
your  mouth  before  you've  done.  What  the  deucq 
d'you  mean  by  this  ?  " 

" You'll  see  in  two  shakes,"  said  McTurk, 
"  Don't  swear  like  that.  What  we  want  to  kno^ 
is,  why  you  two  hulkin'  swine  have  been  bullyin1 
Clewer?" 

"  It's  none  of  your  business." 

"What  did  you  bully  Clewer  for  ?"  The  ques- 
tion was  repeated  with  maddening  iteration  by  each 
in  turn.  They  knew  their  work. 

"  Because  we  jolly  well  chose  !  "  was  the  answer 
at  last.  "Let's  get  up."  Even  then  they  could 
not  realize  the  game. 

[165] 


STALKY   &    CO. 

""Well,  now  we're  goin'  to  bully  you  because  we 
jolly  well  choose.  We're  goin'  to  be  just  as  fair  to 
you  as  you  were  to  Clewer.  He  couldn't  do  any- 
thing against  you.  You  can't  do  anything  to  us. 
Odd,  ain't  it?" 

"Can't  we?    You  wait  an'  see." 

"Ah,"  said  Beetle  reflectively,  "that  shows 
you've  never  been  properly  jested  with.  A  public 
lickin'  ain't  in  it  with  a  gentle  jape.  Bet  a  bob 
you'll  weep  an'  promise  anything." 

"Look  here,  young  Beetle,  we'll  half  kill  you 
when  we  get  up.  I'll  promise  you  that,  at  any 
rate." 

"  You're  going  to  be  half  killed  first,  though. 
Did  you  give  Clewer  Head-knuckles  ?  ' ' 

"Did  you  give  Clewer  Head-knuckles?"  Mc- 
Turk  echoed.  At  the  twentieth  repetition — no  boy 
can  stand  the  torture  of  one  unvarying  query,  which 
is  the  essence  of  bullying — came  confession. 

' '  We  did,  confound  you  ! ' ' 

"  Then  you'll  be  knuckled  ;  "  and  knuckled  they 
were,  according  to  ancient  experience.  Head-knuck- 
ling is  no  trifle  ;  "  Molly  "  Fairburn  of  the  old  days 
could  not  have  done  better. 

"  Did  you  give  Clewer  Brush-drill?  " 

This  time  the  question  was  answered  sooner,  and 
Brush-drill  was  dealt  out  for  the  space  of  five  min- 
utes by  Stalky 's  watch.  They  could  not  even 
[166] 


THE   MORAL   REFORMERS. 

writhe  in  their  bonds.  No  brush  is  employed  in 
Brush-drill. 

"  Did  you  give  Clewer  the  Key  ?  " 

"No;  we  didn't.  I  swear  we  didn't!"  from 
Campbell,  rolling  in  agony. 

"  Then  we'll  give  it  to  you,  so  you  can  see  what 
it  would  be  like  if  you  had." 

The  torture  of  the  Key — which  has  no  key  at  all 
— hurts  excessively.  They  endured  several  minutes 
of  it,  and  their  language  necessitated  the  gag. 

" Did  you  give  Clewer  Corkscrews?  " 

"  Yes.  Oh,  curse  your  silly  souls  !  Let  us  alone, 
you  cads." 

They  were  corkscrewed,  and  the  torture  of  the 
Corkscrew — this  has  nothing  to  do  with  corkscrews 
—is  keener  than  the  torture  of  the  Key. 

The  method  and  silence  of  the  attacks  was  break- 
ing their  nerves.  Between  each  new  torture  came 
the  pitiless,  dazing  rain  of  questions,  and  when  they 
did  not  answer  to  the  point,  Isabella-colored  handker- 
chiefs were  thrust  into  their  mouths. 

"  Now  are  those  all  the  things  you  did  to  Clewer  ? 
Take  out  the  gag,  Turkey,  and  let  'em  answer." 

"Yes,  I  swear  that  was  all.  Oh,  you're  killing 
us,  Stalky  !  "  cried  Campbell. 

"Pre-cisely  what  Clewer  said  to  you.  I  heard 
him.  Now  we're  goin'  to  show  you  what  real  bully - 
in'  is.  What  I  don't  like  about  you,  Sefton,  is, 
12  [167] 


STALKY   &    CO. 

you  dome  to  the  Coll.  with  your  stick-up  collars  an' 
patent-leather  boots,  an'  you  think  you  can  teach  us 
something  about  bullying.  Do  you  think  you  can 
teach  us  anything  about  bullying?  Take  out  the 
gag  and  let  him  answer." 

"No  !  " — ferociously. 

"  He  says  no.  Rock  him  to  sleep.  Campbell  can 
watch." 

It  needs  three  boys  and  two  boxing-gloves  to  rock 
a  boy  to  sleep.  Again  the  operation  has  nothing  to 
do  with  its  name.  Sefton  was  "rocked"  till  his 
eyes  set  in  his  head  and  he  gasped  and  crowed  for 
breath,  sick  and  dizzy. 

"  My  Aunt !  "  said  Campbell,  appalled,  from  his 
corner,  and  turned  white. 

"Put  him  away,"  said  Stalky.  "Bring  on 
Campbell.  Now  this  is  bully  in'.  Oh,  I  forgot ! 
I  say,  Campbell,  what  did  you  bully  Clewer  for? 
Take  out  his  gag  and  let  him  answer. ' ' 

"  I — I  don't  know.  Oh,  let  me  off  I  I  swear  I'll 
make  it  pax.  Don't  '  rock '  me  !  " 

"  'The  bleatin'  of  the  kid  excites  the  tiger.'  He 
says  he  don't  know.  Set  him  up,  Beetle.  Give  me 
the  glove  an'  put  in  the  gag." 

In  silence  Campbell  was  "rocked"  sixty-four 
times. 

"  I  believe  I'm  goin'  to  die  !  "  he  gasped. 

"He  says  he  is  goin'  to  die.  Put  him  away. 
[168] 


THE   MORAL   EEFOEMERS. 

Now,  Sefton  !     Oh,  I  forgot !     Sefton,  what  did 
you  bully  Clewer  for?  " 

The  answer  is  unprintable  ;  but  it  brought  not 
the  faintest  flush  to  Stalky's  downy  cheek. 

"  Make  him  an  Ag  Ag,  Turkey  !  " 

And  an  Ag  Ag  was  he  made,  forthwith.  The 
hard-bought  experience  of  nearly  eighteen  years  was 
at  his  disposal,  but  he  did  not  seem  to  appreciate  it. 

"  He  says  we  are  sweeps.  Put  him  away  !  Now, 
Campbell !  Oh,  I  forgot  !  I  say,  Campbell,  what 
did  you  bully  Clewer  for?  " 

Then  came  the  tears — scalding  tears  ;  appeals  for 
mercy  and  abject  promises  of  peace.  Let  them  cease 
the  tortures  and  Campbell  would  never  lift  hand 
against  them.  The  questions  began  again — to  an 
accompaniment  of  small  persuasions. 

"  You  seem  hurt,  Campbell.     Are  you  hurt?  " 

"Yes.     Awfully!" 

"  He  says  he  is  hurt.     Are  you  broke  ?  " 

"  Yes,  yes  !     I  swear  I  am.     Oh,  stop  !  " 

"  He  says  he  is  broke.     Are  you  humble  ?  " 

"Yet!" 

"  He  says  he  is  humble.  Are  you  devilish  hum- 
ble?" 

"Yes!" 

"  He  says  he  is  devilish  humble.  Will  you  bulb? 
Clewer  any  more  ?  ' ' 

"No.     No— ooh!" 

[169] 


STALKY   &    CO. 

"He  says  he  won't  bully  Clewer.  Or  any  one 
else?" 

11  No.     I  swear  I  won't." 

"  Or  any  one  else.  What  about  that  lickin'  you 
and  Sefton  were  goin'  to  give  us  ?  " 

"  I  won't  !     I  won't  !     I  swear  I  won't !  " 

"  He  says  he  won't  lick  us.  Do  you  esteem  your- 
self to  know  anything  about  bullyin'  ?  " 

"No,  I  don't!" 

11  He  says  he  doesn't  know  anything  about  Bully- 
in'. Haven't  we  taught  you  a  lot  ?  " 

"Yes— yes!" 

"  He  says  we've  taught  him  a  lot.  Aren't  you 
grateful?" 

"Yes!" 

"  He  says  he  is  grateful.  Put  him  away.  Oh,  I 
forgot  !  I  say,  Campbell,  what  did  you  bully 
Clewer  for?" 

He  wept  anew  ;  his  nerves  being  raw.  "  Because 
I  was  a  bully.  I  suppose  that's  what  you  want  me 
to  say?" 

"  He  says  he  is  a  bully.  Right  he  is.  Put  him 
in  the  corner.  No  more  japes  for  Campbell.  Now, 
Sefton  !  " 

"You  devils  !  You  young  devils  !  "  This  and 
much  more  as  Sefton  was  punted  across  the  carpet 
by  skilful  knees. 

"  '  The  bleatin'  of  the  kid  excites  the  tiger. '  "We're 
[170] 


THE   MORAL   REFORMERS. 

goin'  to  make  you  beautiful.  Where  does  he  keep 
his  shaving  things  ?  [Campbell  told.]  Beetle,  get 
some  water.  Turkey,  make  the  lather.  We're  go- 
in'  to  shave  you,  Seffy,  so  you'd  better  lie  jolly  still, 
or  you'll  get  cut.  s  I've  never  shaved  any  one  be- 
fore." 

"  Don't  !     Oh,  don't  !     Please  don't !  " 

"  Gettin'  polite,  eh?  I'm  only  goin'  to  take  off 
one  ducky  little  whisker — 

"  I'll — I'll  make  it  pax,  if  you  don't.  I  swear  I'll 
let  you  off  your  lickin'  when  I  get  up  !  " 

"And  half  that  mustache  we're  so  proud  of.  He 
says  he'll  let  us  off  our  lickin'.  Isn't  he  kind?  " 

McTurk  laughed  into  the  nickel-plated  shaving- 
cup,  and  settled  Sefton's  head  between  Stalky's  vise- 
like  knees. 

"Hold  on  a  shake,"  said  Beetle,  "you  can't 
shave  long  hairs.  You've  got  to  cut  all  that  mus- 
tache short  first,  an'  then  scrope  him." 

"  Well,  I'm  not  goin'  to  hunt  about  for  scissors. 
Won't  a  match  do?  Chuck  us  the  match-box.  He 
is  a  hog,  you  know;  we  might  as  well  singe  him. 
Lie  still !  " 

He  lit  a  vesta,  but  checked  his  hand.  "I  only 
want  to  take  off  half,  though." 

"That's  all  right."  Beetle  waved  the  brush. 
"  I'll  lather  up  to  the  middle — see?  and  you  can 
burn  off  the  rest." 

[171] 


STALKY   &   CO. 

The  thin-haired  first  mustache  of  youth  fluffed  off 
in  flame  to  the  lather-line  in  the  centre  of  the  lip, 
and  Stalky  rubbed  away  the  burnt  stumpage  with 
his  thumb.  It  was  not  a  very  gentle  shave,  but  it 
abundantly  accomplished  its  purpose. 

"  Now  the  whisker  on  the  other  side.  Turn  him 
over !  "  Between  match  and  razor  this,  too,  was 
removed.  "  Give  him  his  shaving-glass.  Take  the 
gag  out.  I  want  to  hear  what  he'll  say." 

But  there  were  no  words.  Sefton  gazed  at  the 
lop-sided  wreck  in  horror  and  despair.  Two  fat 
tears  rolled  down  his  cheek. 

"  Oh,  I  forgot !  I  say,  Sefton,  what  did  you 
bully  Clewerfor?" 

"  Leave  me  alone  !  Oh,  you  infernal  bullies, 
leave  me  alone  !  Haven't  I  had  enough  ?  " 

"He  says  we  must  leave  him  alone,"  said  Me- 
Turk. 

"  He  says  we  are  bullies,  an'  we  haven't  even  be, 
gun  yet,"  said  Beetle.  "You're  ungrateful,  Seffy. 
Golly  !  You  do  look  an  atrocity  and  a  half  !  " 

"  He  says  he  has  had  enough,"  said  Stalky.  "  He 
errs!" 

"Well,  to  work,  to  work!"  chanted  JVIcTurk, 
waving  a  stump.  "  Come  on,  my  giddy  Narcissus. 
Don't  fall  in  love  with  your  own  reflection  !  " 

"Oh,  let  him  off,"  said  Campbell  from  his  cor. 
ner  ;  "  he's  blubbing,  too. " 


THE   MORAL   REFORMERS. 

Sefton  cried  like  a  twelve-year-old  with  pain, 
shame,  wounded  vanity,  and  utter  helplessness. 

"You'll  make  it  pax,  Sefton,  won't  you?  You 
can't  stand  up  to  those  young  devils " 

"  Don't  be  rude,  Campbell,  de-ah,"  said  McTurk, 
"  or  you'll  catch  it  again  !  " 

"  You  are  devils,  you  know,"  said  Campbell. 

"What?  for  a  little  bullyin' — same  as  you've 
been  givin'  Clewer  !  How  long  have  you  been 
jestin'  with  him  ?  "  said  Stalky.  "  All  this 
term?" 

"We  didn't  always  knock  him  about,  though!  " 

"You  did  when  you  could  catch  him,"  said 
Beetle,  cross-legged  on  the  floor,  dropping  a  stump 
from  time  to  time  across  Sef ton's  instep.  "Don't 
I  know  it !  " 

"  I — perhaps  we  did." 

"  And  you  went  out  of  your  way  to  catch  him? 
Don't  I  know  it !  Because  he  was  an  awful  little 
beast,  eh  ?  Don't  I  know  it  !  Now,  you  see, 
you're*  awful  beasts,  and  you're  gettin'  what  he  got 
— for  bein'  a  beast.  Just  because  we  choose." 

"We  never  really  bullied  him — like  you've  done 
us." 

"  Yah!  "  said  Beetle.     "  They  never  really  bully 

— '  Molly  '  Fairburn  didn't.     Only  knock  'em  about 

a  little  bit.    That's  what  they  say.     Only  kick  their 

souls  out  of  'em,  and  they  go  and  blub  in  the  box- 

[173] 


STALKY   &    CO. 

rooms.  Shove  their  heads  into  the  ulsters  an'  blub. 
Write  home  three  times  a  day  —  yes,  you  brute,  I've 
done  that  —  askin'  to  be  taken  away.  You've  never 
been  bullied  properly,  Campbell.  I'm  sorry  you 


"I'm  not!  "  said  Campbell,  who  was  a  humorist 
in  a  way.  "  Look  out,  you're  slaying  Sefton!  " 

In  his  excitement  Beetle  had  used  the  stump 
unreflectingly,  and  Sefton  was  now  shouting  for 
mercy. 

"An'  you!"  he  cried,  wheeling  where  he  sat. 
"  You've  never  been  bullied,  either.  Where  were 
you  before  you  came  here?  " 

"I—  I  had  a  tutor." 

"  Yah!  You  would.  You  never  blubbed  in  your 
life.  But  you're  blubbin'  now,  by  gum.  Aren't 
you  blubbin'  ?  " 

"Can't  you  see,  you  blind  beast?"  Sefton  fell 
over  sideways,  tear-tracks  furrowing  the  dried 
lather.  Crack  came  the  cricket-stump  on  the  curved 
latter-end  of  him. 

"  Blind,  am  I,"  said  Beetle,  "  and  a  beast?  Shut 
up,  Stalky.  I'm  goin'  to  jape  a  bit  with  our  friend, 
d  la  '  Molly  '  Fairburn.  /  think  I  can  see.  Can't 
I  see,  Sefton?" 

"The  point  is  well  taken,"  said  McTurk,  watch- 
ing the  stump  at  work.  "  You'd  better  say  that  he 
sees,  Seffy." 


THE   MOEAL   KEFOKMEKS. 

"You  do — you  can!  I  swear  you  do!"  yelled 
Sefton,  for  strong  arguments  were  coercing 
him. 

"  Aren't  my  eyes  lovely?  "  The  stump  rose  and 
fell  steadily  throughout  this  catechism. 

"Yes." 

"  A  gentle  hazel,  aren't  they  ?  " 

"Yes — oh,  yes!  " 

"  What  a  liar  you  are!  They're  sky-blue.  Ain't 
they  sky-blue?" 

"Yes— oh,  yes!" 

"  You  don't  know  your  mind  from  one  minute  to 
another.  You  must  learn — you  must  learn." 

"What  a  bait  you're  in!  "  said  Stalky.  "Keep 
your  hair  on,  Beetle. ' ' 

"  I've  had  it  done  to  me,"  said  Beetle.  "  Now — 
about  my  being  a  beast. ' ' 

"Pax — oh,  pax  /"  cried  Sefton;  "make  it  pax. 
I'll  give  up!  Let  me  off!  I'm  broke!  I  can't 
stand  it!  " 

"Ugh!  Just  when  we  were  gettin'  our  hand 
in!"  grunted  McTurk.  "They  didn't  let  Clewer 
off,  I'll  swear." 

"  Confess — apologize — quick!  "  said  Stalky. 

From  the   floor  Sefton  made  unconditional  sur- 
render,  more  abjectly  even  than  Campbell.     He 
would  never  touch  any  one  again.     He  would  go 
softly  all  the  days  of  his  life. 
[175] 


STALKY   &    CO. 

"  We've  got  to  take  it,  I  suppose?"  said  Stalky. 
"  All  right,  Sef  ton.  You're  broke  ?  Yery  good. 
Shut  up,  Beetle!  But  before  we  let  you  up,  you 
an'  Campbell  will  kindly  oblige  us  with  '  Kitty  of 
Coleraine  ' — d  la  Clewer. ' ' 

"That's  not  fair,"  said  Campbell;  " we've  sur- 
rendered." 

"  'Course  you  have.  Now  you're  goin'  to  do  what 
we  tell  you — same  as  Clewer  would.  If  you  hadn't 
surrendered  you'd  ha'  been  really  bullied.  Havin' 
surrendered — do  you  follow,  Seffy  ? — you  sing  odes 
in  honor  of  the  conquerors.  Hurry  up!  " 

They  dropped  into  chairs  luxuriously.  Campbell 
and  Sefton  looked  at  each  other,  and,  neither  taking 
comfort  from  that  view,  struck  up  "Kitty  of  Cole- 
raine." 

"  Vile  bad,"  said  Stalky,  as  the  miserable  wailing 
ended.  "  If  you  hadn't  surrendered  it  would  have 
been  our  painful  duty  to  buzz  books  at  you  for  sing- 
in'  out  o'  tune.  Now  then." 

He  freed  them  from  their  bonds,  but  for  several 
minutes  they  could  not  rise.  Campbell  was  first  on 
his  feet,  smiling  uneasily.  Sefton  staggered  to  the 
table,  buried  his  head  in  his  arms,  and  shook  with 
sobs.  There  was  no  shadow  of  fight  in  either — only 
amazement,  distress,  and  shame. 

"  Ca — can't  he  shave  clean  before  tea,  please?" 
said  Campbell.     "  It's  ten  minutes  to  bell." 
[176] 


THE   MORAL   EEFORMEES. 

Stalky  shook  his  head.  He  meant  to  escort  the 
half-shaved  one  to  the  meal. 

McTurk  yawned  in  his  chair  and  Beetle  mopped 
his  face.  They  were  all  dripping  with  excitement 
and  exertion. 

"  If  I  knew  anything  about  it,  I  swear  I'd  give 
you  a  moral  lecture, ' '  said  Stalky  severely. 

"  Don't  jaw;  they've  surrendered,"  said  McTurk. 
"  This  moral  suasion  biznai  takes  it  out  of  a  chap." 

"Don't  you  see  how  gentle  we've  been?  We 
might  have  called  Clewer  in  to  look  at  you,"  said 
Stalky.  "  (  The  bleatin'  of  the  tiger  excites  the  kid. ' 
But  we  didn't.  We've  only  got  to  tell  a  few  chaps 
in  Coll.  about  this  and  you'd  be  hooted  all  over  the 
shop.  Your  life  wouldn't  be  worth  havin'.  But 
we  aren't  goin'  to  do  that,  either.  We're  strictly 
moral  suasers,  Campbell;  so,  unless  you  or  Seffy 
split  about  this,  no  one  will." 

"I  swear  you're  a  brick,"  said  Campbell.  "I 
suppose  I  was  rather  a  brute  to  Clewer." 

"It  looked  like  it,"  said  Stalky.  "But  I  don't 
think  Seffy  need  come  into  hall  with  cock-eye  whis- 
kers. Horrid  bad  for  the  fags  if  they  saw  him.  He 
can  shave.  Ain't  you  grateful,  Sefton?  " 

The  head  did  not  lift.     Sefton  was  deeply  asleep. 

"  That's  rummy,"  said  McTurk,  as  a  snore  mixed 
with  a  sob.  "'Cheek,  /think;  or  else  he's  sham- 
min'." 

[in] 


STALKY   &    CO. 

"No,  'tisn't,"  said  Beetle.  "When  'Molly' 
Fail-burn  had  attended  to  me  for  an  hour  or  so  I  used 
to  go  bung  off  to  sleep  on  a  form  sometimes.  Poor 
devil!  But  he  called  me  a  beastly  poet,  though." 

"Well,  come  on."  Stalky  lowered  his  voice. 
"  Good-by,  Campbell.  'Member,  if  you  don't  talk, 
nobody  will." 

There  should  have  been  a  war-dance,  but  that  all 
three  were  so  utterly  tired  that  they  almost  went  to 
sleep  above  the  tea-cups  in  their  study,  and  slept  till 
prep. 

"A  most  extraordinary  letter.  Are  all  parents 
incurably  mad ?  "What  do  you  make  of  it?"  said 
the  Head,  handing  a  closely  written  eight  pages  to 
the  Reverend  John. 

"  '  The  only  son  of  his  mother,  and  she  a  widow.' 
That  is  the  least  reasonable  sort."  The  chaplain 
read  with  pursed  lips. 

"If  half  those  charges  are  true  he  should  be  in 
the  sick-house;  whereas  he  is  disgustingly  well. 
Certainly  he  has  shaved.  I  noticed  that." 

"  Under  compulsion,  as  his  mother  points  out. 
How  delicious!  How  salutary!  " 

"You  haven't  to  answer  her.  It  isn't  often  I 
don't  know  what  has  happened  in  the  school;  but 
this  is  beyond  me. ' ' 

"  If  you  asked  me  I  should  say  seek  not  to  pro- 
[178] 


Are  all  parents  incurably  mad  ? '  " 


THE   MOKAL   REFORMERS. 

pitiate.  When  one  is  forced  to  take  crammers' 
pups 

11  He  was  perfectly  well  at  extra-tuition — with  me 
— this  morning,"  said  the  Head,  absently.  "Un- 
usually well  behaved,  too." 

11 they  either  educate  the  school,  or  the 

school,  as  in  this  case,  educates  them.  I  prefer  our 
own  methods,"  the  chaplain  concluded. 

"  You  think  it  was  that  ?  "  A  lift  of  the  Head's 
eyebrow. 

"  I'm  sure  of  it!  And  nothing  excuses  his  trying 
to  give  the  College  a  bad  name." 

"  That's  the  line  I  mean  to  take  with  him,"  the 
Head  answered. 

The  Augurs  winked. 

A  few  days  later  the  Reverend  John  called  on 
Number  Five.  "  Why  haven't  we  seen  you  before, 
Padre?  "  said  they. 

"I've  been  watching  times  and  seasons  and  events 
and  men — and  boys,"  he  replied.  "I  am  pleased 
with  my  Tenth  Legion.  I  make  them  my  compli- 
ments. Clewer  was  throwing  ink-balls  in  form  this 
morning,  instead  of  doing  his  work.  He  is  now 
doing  fifty  lines  for — unheard-of  audacity. ' ' 

"You  can't  blame  us,  sir,"  said  Beetle.  "You 
told  us  to  remove  the — er — pressure.  That's  the 
worst  of  a  fag." 

[179] 


STALKY   &    CO. 

"  I've  known  boys  five  years  his  senior  throw  ink- 
balls,  Beetle.  To  such  an  one  have  I  given  two  hun- 
dred lines — not  so  long  ago.  And  now  I  come  to 
think  of  it,  were  those  lines  ever  shown  up?  " 

"Were  they,  Turkey?"  said  Beetle  unblush- 
ingly. 

"  Don't  you  think  Clewer  looks  a  little  cleaner, 
Padre?"  Stalky  interrupted. 

"We're  no  end  of  moral  reformers,"  said  Mc- 
Turk. 

"It  was  all  Stalky,  but  it  was  a  lark,"  said 
Beetle. 

"  I  have  noticed  the  moral  reform  in  several  quar- 
ters. Didn't  I  tell  you  you  had  more  influence  than 
any  boys  in  the  Coll.  if  you  cared  to  use  it?  " 

"  It's  a  trifle  exhaustin'  to  use  frequent — our  kind 
of  moral  suasion.  Besides,  you  see,  it  only  makes 
Clewer  cheeky." 

"  I  wasn't  thinking  of  Clewer;  I  was  thinking  of 
— the  other  people,  Stalky." 

"  Oh,  we  didn't  bother  much  about  the  other  peo- 
ple, ' '  said  McTurk.  ' '  Did  we  ?  " 

"  But  /did — from  the  beginning." 

"  Then  you  knew,  sir  ?  " 

A  downward  puff  of  smoke. 

"Boys  educate  each  other,  they  say,  more  than 
we  can  or  dare.  If  I  had  used  one  half  of  the  moral 

suasion  you  may  or  may  not  have  employed " 

[180] 


THE   MORAL   REFORMERS. 

"  With  the  best  motives  in  the  world.  Don't  for- 
get our  pious  motives,  Padre,"  said  McTurk. 

" 1  suppose  I  should  be  now  languishing  in 

Bideford  jail,  shouldn't  I  ?  Well,  to  quote  the  Head, 
in  a  little  business  which  we  have  agreed  to  forget, 

that  strikes  me  as  flagrant  injustice 

What  are  you  laughing  at,  you  young  sinners? 
Isn't  it  true?  I  will  not  stay  to  be  shouted  at. 
What  I  looked  into  this  den  of  iniquity  for  was  to 
find  out  if  any  one  cared  to  come  down  for  a  bathe 
off  the  Kidge.  But  I  see  you  won't." 

"  Won't  we,  though !  Half  a  shake,  Padre  Sahib, 
till  we  get  our  towels,  and  nous  sommes  avec  vou*fr 


[181] 


A  LITTLE  PREP. 

THE  Easter  term  was  but  a  month  old  when  Stettson 
major,  a  day-boy,  contracted  diphtheria,  and  the  Head 
was  very  angry.  He  decreed  a  new  and  narrower  set 
of  bounds — the  infection  had  been  traced  to  an  out- 
lying farmhouse — urged  the  prefects  severely  to  lick 
all  trespassers,  and  promised  extra  attentions  from  his 
own  hand.  There  were  no  words  bad  enough  for 
Stettson  major,  quarantined  at  his  mother's  house,  who 
had  lowered  the  school-average  of  health.  This  he 
said  in  the  gymnasium  after  prayers.  Then  he  wrote 
some  two  hundred  letters  to  as  many  anxious  parents 
and  guardians,  and  bade  the  school  carry  on.  The 
trouble  did  not  spread,,  but,  one  night,  a  dog-cart  drove 
to  the  Head's  door,  and  in  the  morning  the  Head  had 
gone,  leaving  all  things  in  charge  of  Mr.  King,  senior 
house-master.  The  Head  often  ran  up  to  town,  where 
the  school  devoutly  believed  he  bribed  officials  for 
early  proofs  of  the  Army  Examination  papers ;  but  this 
absence  was  unusually  prolonged. 

"  Downy  old  bird !  "  said  Stalky  to  the  allies,  one 
wet  afternoon,  in  the  study.     "  He  must  have  gone  on 
a  bend  an'  been  locked  up,  under  a  false  name." 
[182] 


A   LITTLE   PREP. 

"  What  for? "  Beetle  entered  joyously  into  the 
libel. 

"  Forty  shillin's  or  a  month  for  hackin'  the  chucker- 
out  of  the  Pavvy  on  the  shins.  Bates  always  has  a 
spree  when  he  goes  to  town.  Wish  he  was  back, 
though.  I'm  about  sick  o'  King's  '  whips  an'  scor- 
pions '  an'  lectures  on  public-school  spirit — yah ! — and 
scholarship!  " 

" '  Crass  an'  materialized  brutality  of  the  middle- 
classes — readin'  solely  for  marks.  Not  a  scholar  in 
the  whole  school/  "  McTurk  quoted,  pensively  boring 
holes  in  the  mantel-piece  with  a  hot  poker. 

"  That's  rather  a  sickly  way  of  spending  an  after- 
noon. Stinks,  too.  Let's  come  out  an'  smoke.  Here's 
a  treat."  Stalky  held  up  a  long  Indian  cheroot. 
"  'Bagged  it  from  my  pater  last  holidays.  I'm  a  bit 
shy  of  it,  though ;  it's  heftier  than  a  pipe.  We'll  smoke 
it  palaver-fashion.  Hand  it  round,  eh?  Let's  lie  up 
behind  the  old  harrow  on  the  Monkey-farm  Eoad." 

"  Out  of  bounds.  Bounds  beastly  strict  these  days, 
too.  Besides,  we  shall  cat."  Beetle  sniffed  the 
cheroot  critically.  "It'i  a  regular  Pomposo  Stinka- 
dore." 

"You  can;  I  shan't.     What  d'you  say,  Turkey?" 

"  Oh,  may's  well,  I  s'pose." 

"  Chuck  on  your  cap,  then.  It's  two  to  one.  Beetle, 
out  you  come !  " 

They  saw  a  group  of  l->ov<?  "hy  the  notice-board  in  the 
13  T  183  ] 


STALKY   &    CO. 

corridor  ;  little  Foxy,  the  school  sergeant,  among 
them. 

"  More  bounds,  I  expect,"  said  Stalky.  "  Hullo, 
Foxibus,  who  are  you  in  mournin'  for?  "  There  was 
a  broad  band  of  crape  round  Foxy's  arm. 

"  He  was  in  my  old  regiment,"  said  Foxy,  jerking 
his  head  towards  the  notices,  where  a  newspaper  cut- 
ting was  thumb-tacked  between  call-over  lists. 

"By  gum!  "  quoth  Stalky,  uncovering  as  he  read. 
"  It's  old  Duncan — Fat-Sow  Duncan — killed  on  duty 
at  something  or  other  Kotal.  '  Rallyin'  his  men  with 
conspicuous  gallantry.'  He  would,  of  course.  '  The 
body  was  recovered.'  That's  all  right.  They  cut  'em 
up  sometimes,  don't  they,  Foxy?  " 

"  Horrid,"  said  the  sergeant  briefly. 

"  Poor  old  Fat-Sow !  I  was  a  fag  when  he  left. 
How  many  does  that  make  to  us,  Foxy?  " 

"  Mr.  Duncan,  he  is  the  ninth.  He  come  here  when 
he  was  no  bigger  than  little  Grey  tertius.  My  old 
regiment,  too.  Yiss,  nine  to  us,  Mr.  Corkran,  up  to 
date." 

The  boys  went  out  into  the  wet,  walking  swiftly. 

"  Wonder  how  it  feels — to  be  shot  and  all  that," 
said  Stalky,  as  they  splashed  down  a  lane.  "  Where 
did  it  happen,  Beetle?  " 

"  Oh,  out  in  India  somewhere.  We're  always  row- 
in'  there.  But  look  here,  Stalky,  what  i*  the  good  o' 
sittin'  under  a  hedge  an'  cattin'?  It's  be-eastly  cold. 
[184] 


A   LITTLE   PEEP. 

It's  be-eastly  wet,  and  we'll  be  collared  as  sure  as  a 
gun." 

"  Shut  up !  Did  you  ever  know  your  Uncle  Stalky 
get  you  into  a  mess  yet?  "  Like  many  other  leaders, 
Stalky  did  not  dwell  on  past  defeats. 

They  pushed  through  a  dripping  hedge,  landed 
among  water-logged  clods,  and  sat  down  on  a  rust- 
coated  harrow.  The  cheroot  burned  with  sputter- 
ings  of  saltpetre.  They  smoked  it  gingerly,  each 
passing  to  the  other  between  closed  forefinger  and 
thumb. 

"  Good  job  we  hadn't  one  apiece,  ain't  it? "  said 
Stalky,  shivering  through  set  teeth.  To  prove  his 
words  he  immediately  laid  all  before  them,  and  they 
followed  his  example. 

"  I  told  you,"  moaned  Beetle,  sweating  clammy 
drops.  "  Oh,  Stalky,  you  are  a  fool !  " 

"  Je  cat,  tu  cat,  il  cat.  J¥ous  cations  !  "  McTurk 
handed  up  his  contribution  and  lay  hopelessly  on  the 
cold  iron. 

"  Something's  wrong  with  the  beastly  thing.  I  say, 
Beetle,  have  you  been  droppin'  ink  on  it?  " 

But  Beetle  was  in  no  case  to  answer.  Limp  and 
empty,  they  sprawled  across  the  harrow,  the  rust  mark- 
ing their  ulsters  in  red  squares  and  the  abandoned 
cheroot-end  reeking  under  their  very  cold  noses.  Then 
— they  had  heard  nothing — the  Head  himself  stood 
before  them — the  Head  who  should  have  been  in  town 
[185] 


STALKY   &    CO. 

bribing  examiners — the  Head  fantastically  attired  in 
old  tweeds  and  a  deer-stalker! 

"  Ah,"  he  said,  fingering  his  mustache.  "  Very 
good.  I  might  have  guessed  who  it  was.  You  will 
go  back  to  the  College  and  give  my  compliments  to  Mr. 
King  and  ask  him  to  give  you  an  extra-special  licking. 
You  will  then  do  me  five  hundred  lines.  I  shall  be 
back  to-morrow.  Five  hundred  lines  by  five  o'clock 
to-morrow.  You  are  also  gated  for  a  week.  This  is 
not  exactly  the  time  for  breaking  bounds.  JExtra- 
special,  please." 

He  disappeared  over  the  hedge  as  lightly  as  he  had 
come.  There  was  a  murmur  of  women's  voices  in  the 
deep  lane. 

"Oh,  you  Prooshan  brute!  "  said  McTurk  as  the 
voices  died  away.  "  Stalky,  it's  all  your  silly  fault." 

"  Kill  him !     Kill  him !  "  gasped  Beetle. 

"I  ca-an't.  I'm  going  to  cat  again  ...  I 
don't  mind  that,  but  King'll  gloat  over  us  horrid. 
Extra-special,  ooh!  " 

Stalky  made  no  answer — not  even  a  soft  one.  They 
went  to  College  and  received  that  for  which  they  had 
been  sent.  King  enjoyed  himself  most  thoroughly, 
for  by  virtue  of  their  seniority  the  boys  were  exempt 
from  his  hand,  save  under  special  order.  Luckily,  he 
was  no  expert  in  the  gentle  art. 

"  '  Strange,  how  desire  doth  outrun  performance,'  ' 
said  Beetle  irreverently,  quoting  from  some  Shake- 
[186] 


A   LITTLE   PEEP. 

speare  play  that  they  were  cramming  that  term.  They 
regained  their  study  and  settled  down  to  the  imposi- 
tion. 

"  You're  quite  right,  Beetle."  Stalky  spoke  in  silky 
and  propitiating  tones.  "  Now,  if  the  Head  had  sent 
us  up  to  a  prefect,  we'd  have  got  something  to  re- 
member! " 

"  Look  here,"  McTurk  began  with  cold  venom, 
"  we  aren't  goin'  to  row  you  about  this  business,  be- 
cause it's  too  bad  for  a  row;  but  we  want  you  to  under- 
stand you're  jolly  well  excommunicated,  Stalky. 
You're  a  plain  ass." 

"  How  was  I  to  know  that  the  Head  'ud  collar  us? 
What  was  he  doin'  in  those  ghastly  clothes,  too?  " 

"  Don't  try  to  raise  a  side-issue,"  Beetle  grunted 
severely. 

"  Well,  it  was  all  Stettson  major's  fault.  If  he  hadn't 
gone  an'  got  diphtheria  'twouldn't  have  happened. 
But  don't  you  think  it  rather  rummy — the  Head  drop- 
pin'  on  us  that  way?  " 

"  Shut  up!  You're  dead!  "  said  Beetle.  "  We've 
chopped  your  spurs  off  your  beastly  heels.  We've 
cocked  your  shield  upside  down  and — and  I  don't 
think  you  ought  to  be  allowed  to  brew  for  a  month." 

"  Oh,  stop  jawin'  at  me.     I  want " 

"  Stop?  Why — why,  we're  gated  for  a  week."  Mc- 
Turk almost  howled  as  the  agony  of  the  situation  over- 
came him.  "  A  lickin'  from  King,  five  hundred  lines, 
[187] 


STALKY   &    CO. 

and  a  gatin'.  D'you  expect  us  to  kiss  you,  Stalky, 
you  beast? " 

"  Drop  rottin'  for  a  minute.  I  want  to  find  out 
about  the  Head  bein'  where  he  was." 

"  Well,  you  have.  You  found  him  quite  well  and 
fit.  Found  him  makin'  love  to  Stettson  major's 
mother.  That  was  her  in  the  lane — I  heard  her.  And 
so  we  were  ordered  a  lickin'  before  a  day-boy's  mother. 
Bony  old  widow,  too,"  said  McTurk.  "  Anything  else 
you'd  like  to  find  out?  " 

"  I  don't  care.  I  swear  I'll  get  even  with  him  some 
day,"  Stalky  growled. 

"  Looks  like  it,"  said  McTurk.  "  Extra-special, 
week's  gatin'  and  five  hundred  .  .  .  and  now 
you're  goin'  to  row  about  it!  Help  scrag  him, 
Beetle!  "  Stalky  had  thrown  his  Virgil  at  them. 

The  Head  returned  next  day  without  explanation, 
to  find  the  lines  waiting  for  him  and  the  school  a  little 
relaxed  under  Mr.  King's  viceroyalty.  Mr.  King  had 
been  talking  at  and  round  and  over  the  boys'  heads,  in 
a  lofty  and  promiscuous  style,  of  public-school  spirit 
arid  the  traditions  of  ancient  seats;  for  he  always  im- 
proved an  occasion.  Beyond  waking  in  two  hundred 
and  fifty  young  hearts  a  lively  hatred  of  all  other 
foundations,  he  accomplished  little — so  little,  indeed, 
that  when,  two  days  after  the  Head's  return,  he 
chanced  to  come  across  Stalky  &  Co.,  gated  but  ever 
resourceful,  playing  marbles  in  the  corridor,  he  said 
[188] 


A   LITTLE   PEEP. 

that  he  was  not  surprised — not  in  the  least  surprised. 
This  was  what  he  had  expected  from  persons  of  their 
morale. 

"  But  there  isn't  any  rule  against  marbles,  sir.  Very 
interestin'  game,"  said  Beetle,  his  knees  white  with 
chalk  and  dust.  Then  he  received  two  hundred  lines 
for  insolence,  besides  an  order  to  go  to  the  nearest 
prefect  for  judgment  and  slaughter. 

This  is  what  happened  behind  the  closed  doors  of 
Flint's  study,  and  Flint  was  then  Head  of  the 
Games: — 

"  Oh,  I  say,  Flint.  King  has  sent  me  to  you  for 
playin'  marbles  in  the  corridor  an'  shoutin'  '  alley  tor ' 
an'  '  knuckle  down.' ' 

"  What  does  he  suppose  I  have  to  do  with  that? " 
was  the  answer. 

"  Dunno.  Well?"  Beetle  grinned  wickedly. 
"  What  am  I  to  tell  him?  He's  rather  wrathy  about 
it." 

"  If  the  Head  chooses  to  put  a  notice  in  the  corridor 
forbiddin'  marbles,  I  can  do  something;  but  I  can't 
move  on  a  house-master's  report.  He  knows  that  as 
well  as  I  do." 

The  sense  of  this  oracle  Beetle  conveyed,  all 
unsweetened,  to  King,  who  hastened  to  interview 
Flint. 

I^ow  Flint  had  been  seven  and  a  half  years  at  the 
College,  counting  six  months  with  a  London  crammer, 
[189] 


STALKY   &    CO. 

from  whose  roof  he  had  returned,  homesick,  to  the 
Head  for  the  final  Army  polish.  There  were  four  or 
five  other  seniors  who  had  gone  through  much  the 
same  mill,  not  to  mention  boys,  rejected  by  other  estab- 
lishments on  account  of  a  certain  overwhelmingness, 
whom  the  Head  had  wrought  into  very  fair  shape.  It 
was  not  a  Sixth  to  be  handled  without  gloves,  as  King 
found. 

"  Am  I  to  understand  it  is  your  intention  to  allow 
board-school  games  under  your  study  windows,  Flint? 

If  so,  I  can  only  say "  He  said  much,  and  Flint 

listened  politely. 

"  "Well,  sir,  if  the  Head  sees  fit  to  call  a  prefects' 
meeting  we  are  bound  to  take  the  matter  up.  But  the 
tradition  of  the  school  is  that  the  prefects  can't  move 
in  any  matter  affecting  the  whole  school  without  the 
Head's  direct  order." 

Much  more  was  then  delivered,  both  sides  a  little 
losing  their  temper. 

After  tea,  at  an  informal  gathering  of  prefects  in  his 
study,  Flint  related  the  adventure. 

"  He's  been  playin'  for  this  for  a  week,  and  now  he's 
got  it.  You  know  as  well  as  I  do  that  if  he  hadn't 
been  gassing  at  us  the  way  he  has,  that  young  devil 
Beetle  wouldn't  have  dreamed  of  marbles." 

"  We  know  that,"  said  Perowne,  "  but  that  isn't  the 
question.  On  Flint's  showin'  King  has  called  the  pre- 
fects names  enough  to  justify  a  first-class  row.  Cram- 
[190] 


A   LITTLE   PREP. 

mers'  rejections,  ill-regulated  hobble-de-hoys,  wasn't 
it?  Now  it's  impossible  for  prefects " 

"  Rot,"  said  Flint.  "  King's  the  best  classical  cram 
we've  got;  and  'tisn't  fair  to  bother  the  Head  with  a 
row.  He's  up  to  his  eyes  with  extra-tu.  and  Army 
work  as  it  is.  Besides,  as  I  told  King,  we  aren't  a 
public  school.  We're  a  limited  liability  company 
payin'  four  per  cent.  My  father's  a  shareholder, 
too." 

"  What's  that  got  to  do  with  it  ? "  said  Venner,  a 
red-headed  boy  of  nineteen. 

"  Well,  seems  to  me  that  we  should  be  interferin' 
with  ourselves.  We've  got  to  get  into  the  Army  or — 
get  out,  haven't  we?  King's  hired  by  the  Council 
to  teach  us.  All  the  rest's  flumdiddle.  Can't  you 
see?" 

It  might  have  been  because  he  felt  the  air  was  a 
little  thunderous  that  the  Head  took  his  after-dinner 
cheroot  to  Flint's  study;  but  he  so  often  began  an. 
evening  in  a  prefect's  room  that  nobody  suspected 
when  he  drifted  in  pensively,  after  the  knocks  that 
etiquette  demanded. 

"Prefects'  meeting?"  A  cock  of  one  wise  eye- 
brow. 

"Not  exactly,  sir;  we're  just  talking  things  over. 
Won't  you  take  the  easy  chair?  " 

"  Thanks.  Luxurious  infants,  you  are."  He 
dropped  into  Flint's  big  half-couch  and  puffed  for 
[191J 


STALKY   &    CO. 

a  while  in  silence.  "  Well,  since  you're  all  here,  I  may 
confess  that  I'm  the  mute  with  the  bowstring." 

The  young  faces  grew  serious.  The  phrase  meant 
that  certain  of  their  number  would  be  withdrawn  from 
all  further  games  for  extra-tuition.  It  might  also 
mean  future  success  at  Sandhurst;  but  it  was  present 
ruin  for  the  First  Fifteen. 

"  Yes,  I've  come  for  my  pound  of  flesh.  I  ought 
to  have  had  you  out  before  the  Exeter  match ;  but  it's 
our  sacred  duty  to  beat  Exeter." 

"  Isn't  the  Old  Boys'  match  sacred,  too,  sir  ?  "  said 
Perowne.  The  Old  Boys'  match  was  the  event  of  the 
Easter  term. 

"  We'll  hope  they  aren't  in  training.  Now  for  the 
list.  First  I  want  Flint.  It's  the  Euclid  that  does  it. 
You  must  work  deductions  with  me.  Perowne,  extra 
mechanical  drawing.  Dawson  goes  to  Mr.  King  for 
extra  Latin,  and  Yenner  to  me  for  German.  Have  I 
damaged  the  First  Fifteen  much? "  He  smiled 
sweetly. 

"  Ruined  it,  I'm  afraid,  sir,"  said  Flint.  "  Can't 
you  let  us  off  till  the  end  of  the  term?  " 

"  Impossible.  It  will  be  a  tight  squeeze  for  Sand- 
hurst this  year." 

"  And  all  to  be  cut  up  by  those  vile  Afghans,  too," 
said  Dawson.  "  Wouldn't  think  there'd  be  so  much 
competition,  would  you? " 

"  Oh,  that  reminds  me.  Crandall  is  coming  down 
[192] 


A    LITTLE    PEEP. 

with  the  Old  Boys — I've  asked  twenty  of  them,  but 
we  shan't  get  more  than  a  weak  team.  I  don't  know 
whether  he'll  be  much  use,  though.  He  was  rather 
knocked  about,  recovering  poor  old  Duncan's  body." 

"  Crandall  major — the  Gunner?  "  Perowne  asked. 

"  Ho,  the  minor — '  Toffee  '  Crandall — in  a  native 
infantry  regiment.  He  was  almost  before  your  time, 
Perowne." 

"  The  papers  didn't  say  anything  about  him.  We 
read  about  Fat-Sow,  of  course.  What's  Crandall  done, 
sir?  " 

"  I've  brought  over  an  Indian  paper  that  his  mother 
sent  me.  It  was  rather  a — hefty,  I  think  you  say — 
piece  of  work.  Shall  I  read  it?  " 

The  Head  knew  how  to  read.  When  he  had  finished 
the  quarter-column  of  close  type  everybody  thanked 
him  politely. 

"Good  for  the  old  Coll.!  "  said  Perowne.  "Pity 
he  wasn't  in  time  to  save  Fat-Sow,  though.  That's 
nine  to  us,  isn't  it,  in  the  last  three  years?  " 

"  Yes  .  .  .  And  I  took  old  Duncan  off  all 
games  for  extra-tu.  five  years  ago  this  term,"  said  the 
Head.  "  By  the  way,  who  do  you  hand  over  the 
Games  to,  Flint?  " 

"  Haven't  thought  yet.  Who'd  you  recommend., 
sir?  " 

"  Xo,  thank  you.  I've  heard  it  casually  hinted  be- 
hind my  back  that  the  Prooshan  Bates  is  a  downy  bird, 
[193] 


STALKY   &   CO. 

but  lie  isn't  going  to  make  himself  responsible  for  a 
new  Head  of  the  Games.  Settle  it  among  yourselves. 
Good-night." 

"And  that's  the  man,"  said  Flint,  when  the  door 
shut,  "  that  you  want  to  bother  with  a  dame's  school 
row." 

"  I  was  only  pullin'  your  fat  leg,"  Perowne  re- 
turned, hastily.  "  You're  so  easy  to  draw,  Flint." 

"  Well,  never  mind  that.  The  Head's  knocked  the 
First  Fifteen  to  bits,  and  we've  got  to  pick  up  the 
pieces,  or  the  Old  Boys  will  have  a  walk-over.  Let's 
promote  all  the  Second  Fifteen  and  make  Big  Side 
play  up.  There's  heaps  of  talent  somewhere  that  we 
can  polish  up  between  now  and  the  match." 

The  case  was  represented  so  urgently  to  the  school 
that  even  Stalky  and  McTurk,  who  affected  to  despise 
football,  played  one  Big-Side  game  seriously.  They 
were  forthwith  promoted  ere  their  ardor  had  time  to 
cool,  and  the  dignity  of  their  Caps  demanded  that  they 
should  keep  some  show  of  virtue.  The  match-team 
was  worked  at  least  four  days  out  of  seven,  and  the 
school  saw  hope  ahead. 

With  the  last  week  of  the  term  the  Old  Boys  began 
to  arrive,  and  their  welcome  was  nicely  proportioned 
to  their  worth.  Gentlemen  cadets  from  Sandhurst 
and  Woolwich,  who  had  only  left  a  year  ago,  but  who 
carried  enormous  side,  were  greeted  with  a  cheerful 
"Hullo!  What's  the  Shop  like?"  from  those  wka 
[194] 


A   LITTLE   PREP. 

had  shared  their  studies.  Militia  subalterns  had  more 
consideration,  but  it  was  understood  they  were  not 
precisely  of  the  true  metal.  Recreants  who,  failing 
for  the  Army,  had  gone  into  business  or  banks  were 
received  for  old  sake's  sake,  but  in  no  way  made  too 
much  of.  But  when  the  real  subalterns,  officers  and 
gentlemen  full-blown — who  had  been  to  the  ends  of 
the  earth  and  back  again  and  so  carried  no  side — came 
on  the  scene  strolling  about  with  the  Head,  the  school 
divided  right  and  left  in  admiring  silence.  And  when 
one  laid  hands  on  Flint,  even  upon  the  Head  of  the 
Games,  crying,  "  Good  Heavens!  What  do  you  mean 
by  growing  in  this  way?  You  were  a  beastly  little  fag 
when  I  left,"  visible  haloes  encircled  Flint.  They 
would  walk  to  and  fro  in  the  corridor  with  the  little 
red  school-sergeant,  telling  news  of  old  regiments;  they 
would  burst  into  form-rooms  sniffing  the  well-remem- 
bered smells  of  ink  and  whitewash;  they  would  find 
nephews  and  cousins  in  the  lower  forms  and  present 
them  with  enormous  wealth;  or  they  would  invade  the 
gymnasium  and  make  Foxy  show  off  the  new  stock 
on  the  bars. 

Chiefly,  though,  they  talked  with  the  Head,  who 
was  father-confessor  and  agent-general  to  them  all;  for 
what  they  shouted  in  their  unthinking  youth,  they 
proved  in  their  thoughtless  manhood — to  wit,  that  the 
Prooshan  Bates  was  "  a  downy  bird."  Young  blood 
who  had  stumbled  into  an  entanglement  with  a  pastry- 
[195J 


STALKY   &    CO. 

cook's  daughter  at  Plymouth;  experience  who  had 
come  into  a  small  legacy  but  mistrusted  lawyers ;  ambi- 
tion halting  at  cross-roads,  anxious  to  take  the  one  that 
would  lead  him  farthest ;  extravagance  pursued  by  the 
money-lender;  arrogance  in  the  thick  of  a  regimental 
row — each  carried  his  trouble  to  the  Head ;  and  Chiron 
showed  him,  in  language  quite  unfit  for  little  boys,  a 
quiet  and  safe  way  round,  out,  or  under.  So  they 
overflowed  his  house,  smoked  his  cigars,  and  drank  his 
health  as  they  had  drunk  it  all  the  earth  over  when  two 
or  three  of  the  old  school  had  foregathered. 

"  Don't  stop  smoking  for  a  minute,"  said  the  Head. 
"  The  more  you're  out  of  training  the  better  for  us. 
I've  demoralized  the  First  Fifteen  with  extra-tu." 

"  Ah,  but  we're  a  scratch  lot.  Have  you  told  'em 
we  shall  need  a  substitute  even  if  Crandall  can  play?  " 
said  a  Lieutenant  of  Engineers  with  a  D.S.O.  to  his 
credit. 

"  He  wrote  me  he'd  play,  so  he  can't  have  been  much 
hurt.  He's  coming  down  to-morrow  morning." 

"  Crandall  minor  that  was,  and  brought  off  poor 
Duncan's  body?  "  The  Head  nodded.  "  Where  are 
you  going  to  put  him?  We've  turned  you  out  of 
house  and  home  already,  Head  Sahib."  This  was  a 
Squadron  Commander  of  Bengal  Lancers,  home  on 
leave. 

"  I'm  afraid  he'll  have  to  go  up  to  his  old  dormitory. 
You  know  old  boys  can  claim  that  privilege.  Yes,  I 
[196] 


A   LITTLE   PREP. 

think  leetle  Crandall  minor  must  bed  down  there  once 
more." 

"  Bates  Sahib  " — a  Gunner  flung  a  heavy  arm 
round  the  Head's  neck — "  you've  got  something  up 
your  sleeve.  Confess!  I  know  that  twinkle." 

"  Can't  you  see,  you  cuckoo?  "  a  Submarine  Miner 
interrupted.  "  Crandall  goes  up  to  the  dormitory  as 
an  object-lesson,  for  moral  effect  and  so  forth.  Isn't 
that  true,  Head  Sahib?  " 

"  It  is.  You  know  too  much,  Purvis.  I  licked  you 
for  that  in  '79. " 

"  You  did,  sir,  and  it's  my  private  belief  you  chalked 
the  cane." 

"  N-no.  But  I've  a  very  straight  eye.  Perhaps 
that  misled  you." 

That  opened  the  flood-gates  of  fresh  memories,  and 
they  all  told  tales  out  of  school. 

When  Crandall  minor  that  was — Lieutenant  R. 
Crandall  of  an  ordinary  Indian  regiment — arrived 
from  Exeter  on  the  morning  of  the  match,  he  was 
cheered  along  the  whole  front  of  the  College,  for  the 
prefects  had  repeated  the  sense  of  that  which  the  Head 
had  read  them  in  Flint's  study.  "When  Prout's  house 
understood  that  he  would  claim  his  Old  Boy's  right 
to  a  bed  for  one  night,  Beetle  ran  into  King's  house 
next  door  and  executed  a  public  "  gloat  "  up  and  down 
the  enemy's  big  form-room,  departing  in  a  haze  of  ink- 
pots. 

[197] 


STALKY   &    CO. 

"  What  d'you  take  any  notice  of  these  rotters  for?  " 
said  Stalky,  playing  substitute  for  the  Old  Boys,  mag- 
nificent in  black  jersey,  white  knickers,  and  black 
stockings.  "  I  talked  to  Mm  up  in  the  dormitory 
when  he  was  changin'.  Pulled  his  sweater  down  for 
him.  He's  cut  about  all  over  the  arms — horrid  purply 
ones.  He's  goin'  to  tell  us  about  it  to-night.  I  asked 
him  to  when  I  was  lacin'  his  boots." 

"  Well,  you  have  got  cheek,"  said  Beetle,  enviously. 

"  Slipped  out  before  I  thought.  But  he  wasn't  a  bit 
angry.  He's  no  end  of  a  chap.  I  swear  I'm  goin'  to 
play  up  like  beans.  Tell  Turkey !  " 

The  technique  of  that  match  belongs  to  a  bygone 
age.  Scrimmages  were  tight  and  enduring;  hacking 
was  direct  and  to  the  purpose;  and  around  the  scrim- 
mage stood  the  school,  crying,  "  Put  down  your  heads 
and  shove!  "  Toward  the  end  everybody  lost  all  sense 
of  decency,  and  mothers  of  day-boys  too  close  to  the 
touch-line  heard  language  not  included  in  the  bills. 
No  one  was  actually  carried  off  the  field,  but  both  sides 
felt  happier  when  time  was  called,  and  Beetle  helped 
Stalky  and  McTurk  into  their  overcoats.  The  two 
had  met  in  the  many-legged  heart  of  thir  gs,  and,  as 
Stalky  said,  had  "  done  each  other  proud."  As  they 
swaggered  woodenly  behind  the  teams — substitutes  do 
not  rank  as  equals  of  hairy  men — they  passed  a  pony- 
carriage  near  the  wall,  and  a  husky  voice  cried,  "  Well 
played.  Oh,  played  indeed !  "  It  was  Stettson  major, 
[198] 


A   LITTLE   PEEP. 

white-cheeked  and  hollow-eyed,  who  had  fought  his 
way  to  the  ground  under  escort  of  an  impatient  coach- 
man. 

"Hullo,  Stettson,"  said  Stalky,  checking.  "Is  it 
safe  to  come  near  you  yet?  " 

"  Oh,  yes.  I'm  all  right.  They  wouldn't  let  me 
out  before,  but  I  had  to  come  to  the  match.  Your 
mouth  looks  pretty  plummy." 

"  Turkey  trod  on  it  accidental-done-a-purpose. 
Well,  I'm  glad  you're  better,  because  we  owe  you 
something.  You  and  your  membranes  got  us  into  a 
ev/eet  mess,  young  man." 

"  I  heard  of  that,"  said  the  boy,  giggling.  "  The 
Head  told  me." 

"Doocehedid!     When?" 

"  Oh,  come  on  up  to  Coll.  My  shin'll  stiffen  if  we 
stay  jawin'  here." 

"  Shut  up,  Turkey.  I  want  to  find  out  about  this. 
Well?" 

"  He  was  stayin'  at  our  house  all  the  time  I  was  ill." 

"What  for?  Neglectin'  the  Coll.  that  way? 
"Thought  he  was  in  town." 

"  I  was  off  my  head,  you  know,  and  they  said  I  kept 
«>»t  callin'  for  him." 

"  Cheek !     You're  only  a  day-boy." 

"  He  came  just  the  same,  and  he  about  saved  my 
life.  I  was  all  bunged  up  one  night — just  goin'  to 
croak,  the  doctor  said — and  they  stuck  a  tube  or  some- 
U  [199] 


STALKY   &    CO. 

thin'  in  my  throat,  and  the  Head  sucked  out  the 
stuff." 

"Ugh!     'Shot  if  I  would!  " 

"  He  ought  to  have  got  diphtheria  himself,  the 
doctor  said.  So  he  stayed  on  at  our  house  instead  of 
going  back.  I'd  ha'  croaked  in  another  twenty  min- 
utes, the  doctor  says." 

Here  the  coachman,  being  under  orders,  whipped  up 
and  nearly  ran  over  the  three. 

"  My  Hat!  "  said  Beetle.  "  That's  pretty  average 
heroic." 

"  Pretty  average !  "  McTurk's  knee  in  the  small  of 
his  back  cannoned  him  into  Stalky,  who  punted  him 
back.  "  You  ought  to  be  hung!  " 

"  And  the  Head  ought  to  get  the  Y.C.,"  said  Stalky. 
"  Why,  he  might  have  been  dead  and  buried  by  now. 
But  he  wasn't.  But  he  didn't.  Ho!  ho!  He  just 
nipped  through  the  hedge  like  a  lusty  old  blackbird. 
Extra-special,  five  hundred  lines,  an'  gated  for  a  week 
— all  sereno !  " 

"  I've  read  o'  somethin'  like  that  in  a  book,"  said 
Beetle.  "  Gummy,  what  a  chap!  Just  think  of  it!  " 

"I'm  thinking,"  said  McTurk;  and  he  delivered  a 
wild  Irish  yell  that  made  the  team  turn  round. 

"  Shut  your  fat  mouth,"  said  Stalky,  dancing  with 

impatience.     "  Leave  it  to  your  Uncle  Stalky,  and 

he'll  have  the  Head  on  toast.       If  you  say  a  word, 

Beetle,  till  I  give  you  leave,  I  swear  I'll  slay  you. 

[2001 


A   LITTLE   PEEP. 

Hdbeo  Capitem  crinibus  minimis.  I've  got  him  by 
the  short  hairs!  Now  look  as  if  nothing  had  hap- 
pened." 

There  was  no  need  of  guile.  The  school  was  too 
busy  cheering  the  drawn  match.  It  hung  round  the 
lavatories  regardless  of  muddy  boots  while  the  team 
washed.  It  cheered  Crandall  minor  whenever  it 
caught  sight  of  him,  and  it  cheered  more  wildly  than 
ever  after  prayers,  because  the  Old  Boys  in  evening 
dress,  openly  twirling  their  mustaches,  attended,  and 
instead  of  standing  with  the  masters,  ranged  them- 
selves along  the  wall  immediately  before  the  prefects; 
and  the  Head  called  them  over,  too — majors,  minors, 
and  tertiuses,  after  their  old  names. 

"  Yes,  it's  all  very  fine,"  he  said  to  his  guests  after 
dinner,  "  but  the  boys  are  getting  a  little  out  of  hand. 
There  will  be  trouble  and  sorrow  later,  I'm  afraid. 
You'd  better  turn  in  early,  Crandall.  The  dormitory 
will  be  sitting  up  for  you.  I  don't  know  to  what  dizzy 
heights  you  may  climb  in  your  profession,  but  I  do 
know  you'll  never  get  such  absolute  adoration  as  you're 
getting  now." 

"  Confound  the  adoration.  I  want  to  finish  my 
cigar,  sir." 

"  It's  all  pure  gold.  Go  where  glory  waits,  Cran- 
dall— minor." 

The  setting  of  that  apotheosis  was  a  ten-bed  attic 
dormitory,  communicating  through  doorless  openings 
[201] 


STALKY   &    CO. 

with  three  others.  The  gas  flickered  over  the  raw 
pine  washstands.  There  was  an  incessant  whistling 
of  drafts,  and  outside  the  naked  windows  the  sea  beat 
on  the  Pebbleridge. 

"  Same  old  bed — same  old  mattress,  I  believe,"  said 
Crandall,  yawning.  "  Same  old  everything.  "  Oh, 
but  I'm  lame!  I'd  no  notion  you  chaps  could  play 
like  this."  He  caressed  a  battered  shin.  "  You've 
given  us  all  something  to  remember  you  by." 

It  needed  a  few  minutes  to  put  them  at  their  ease; 
and,  in  some  way  they  could  not  understand,  they  were 
more  easy  when  Crandall  turned  round  and  said  his 
prayers — a  ceremony  he  had  neglected  for  some  years. 

"  Oh,  I  am  sorry.  I've  forgotten  to  put  out  the 
gas." 

"  Please  don't  bother,"  said  the  prefect  of  the 
dormitory.  "  "Worthington  does  that." 

A  nightgowned  twelve-year-old,  who  had  been  wait- 
ing to  show  off,  leaped  from  his  bed  to  the  bracket  and 
back  again,  by  way  of  a  washstand. 

"  How  d'you  manage  when  he's  asleep?  "  said  Cran- 
dall, chuckling. 

"  Shove  a  cold  cleek  down  his  neck." 

"  It  was  a  wet  sponge  when  /  was  junior  in  the 
dormitory.  .  .  .  Hullo!  What's  happening? " 

The  darkness  had  filled  with  whispers,  the  sound  of 
trailing  rugs,  bare  feet  on  bare  boards,  protests,  gig- 
gles, and  threats  such  as : 

[202] 


A   LITTLE   PREP. 

"  Be  quiet,  you  ass !  .  .  .  Squattez-vous  on  the 
floor,  then!  ...  I  swear  you  aren't  going  to  sit 
on  my  bed!  .  .  .  Mind  the  tooth-glass,"  etc. 

"  Sta — Corkran  said,"  the  prefect  began,  his  tone 
showing  his  sense  of  Stalky's  insolence,  "  that  perhaps 
you'd  tell  us  about  that  business  with  Duncan's 
body." 

"  Yes — yes — yes,"  ran  the  keen  whispers.  "  Tell 
us." 

"  There's  nothing  to  tell.  What  on  earth  are  you 
chaps  hoppin'  about  in  the  cold  for?  " 

"  Never  mind  us,"  said  the  voices.  "  Tell  about 
Fat-Sow." 

So  Crandall  turned  on  his  pillow  and  spoke  to  the 
generation  he  could  not  see. 

"  Well,  about  three  months  ago  he  was  commanding 
a  treasure-guard — a  cart  full  of  rupees  to  pay  troops 
with — five  thousand  rupees  in  silver.  He  was  comin' 
to  a  place  called  Fort  Pearson,  near  Kalabagh." 

"  I  was  born  there,"  squeaked  a  small  fag.  "  It  was 
called  after  my  uncle." 

"  Shut  up — you  and  your  uncle !  Never  mind  /um, 
Crandall." 

"  Well,  ne'er  mind.  The  Afridis  found  out  that 
this  treasure  was  on  the  move,  and  they  ambushed  the 
whole  show  a  couple  of  miles  before  he  got  to  the  fort, 
and  cut  up  the  escort.  Duncan  was  wounded,  and  the 
escort  hooked  it.  There  weren't  more  than  twenty 
[203] 


STALKY   &    CO. 

Sepoys  all  told,  and  there  were  any  amount  of  Afridis. 
As  tilings  turned  out,  I  was  in  charge  at  Fort  Pearson. 
Fact  was,  I'd  heard  the  firing  and  was  just  going  to 
see  about  it,  when  Duncan's  men  came  up.  So  we  all 
turned  back  together.  They  told  me  something  about 
an  officer,  but  I  couldn't  get  the  hang  of  things  till  I 
saw  a  chap  under  the  wheels  of  the  cart  out  in  the 
open,  propped  up  on  one  arm,  blazing  away  with  a 
revolver.  You  see,  the  escort  had  abandoned  the  cart, 
and  the  Afridis — they're  an  awfully  suspicious  gang 
— thought  the  retreat  was  a  trap — sort  of  draw,  you 
know — and  the  cart  was  the  bait.  So  they  had  left 
poor  old  Duncan  alone.  'Minute  they  spotted  how  few 
we  were,  it  was  a  race  across  the  flat  who  should  reach 
old  Duncan  first.  We  ran,  and  they  ran,  and  we  won, 
and  after  a  little  hackin'  about  they  pulled  off.  I 
never  knew  it  was  one  of  us  till  I  was  right  on  top  of 
him.  There  are  heaps  of  Duncans  in  the  service,  and 
of  course  the  name  didn't  remind  me.  He  wasn't 
changed  at  all  hardly.  He'd  been  shot  through  the 
lungs,  poor  old  man,  and  he  was  pretty  thirsty.  I  gave 
him  a  drink  and  sat  down  beside  him,  and — funny 
thing,  too — he  said,  '  Hullo,  Toffee !  '  and  I  said, 
'  Hullo,  Fat-Sow!  hope  you  aren't  hurt,'  or  something 
of  the  kind.  But  he  died  in  a  minute  or  two — never 
lifted  his  head  off  my  knees.  ...  I  say,  you 
chaps  out  there  will  get  your  death  of  cold.  Better 
go  to  bed." 

[204] 


1  '  Propped  up  on  one  arm,  blazing  away  with  a  revolver.'  " 


A   LITTLE   PEEP. 

"  All  right.  In  a  minute.  But  your  cuts — your 
cuts.  How  did  you  get  wounded?  " 

"  That  was  when  we  were  taking  the  body  back  to 
the  Fort.  They  came  on  again,  and  there  was  a  bit 
of  a  scrimmage." 

"  Did  you  kill  any  one?  " 

"  Yes.     Shouldn't  wonder.     Good-night." 

"Good-night.  Thank  you,  Crandall.  Thanks 
awf  ly,  Crandall.  Good-night." 

The  unseen  crowds  withdrew.  His  own  dormitory 
rustled  into  bed  and  lay  silent  for  a  while. 

"  I  say,  Crandall  " — Stalky's  voice  was  tuned  to  a 
wholly  foreign  reverence. 

"Well,  what?" 

"  Suppose  a  chap  found  another  chap  croaking  with 
diphtheria — all  bunged  up  with  it — and  they  stuck  a 
tube  in  his  throat  and  the  chap  sucked  the  stuff  out, 
what  would  you  say?  " 

"  Urn,"  said  Crandall,  reflectively.  "  I've  only 
heard  of  one  case,  and  that  was  a  doctor.  He  did  it 
for  a  woman." 

"  Oh,  this  wasn't  a  woman.  It  was  just  a 
boy." 

"  Makes  it  all  the  finer,  then.  It's  about  the  bravest 
thing  a  man  can  do.  "Why?  " 

"  Oh,  I  heard  of  a  chap  doin'  it.     That's  all." 

"  Then  he's  a  brave  man." 

"  Would  you  funk  it?" 

[205] 


STALKY   &    CO. 

"  Ra-ather.  Anybody  would.  Fancy  dying  of 
diphtheria  in  cold  blood." 

"Well— ah!  Er!  Look  here!"  The  sentence 
ended  in  a  grunt,  for  Stalky  had  leaped  out  of  bed  and 
with  McTurk  was  sitting  on  the  head  of  Beetle,  who 
would  have  sprung  the  mine  there  and  then. 

Next  day,  which  was  the  last  of  the  term  and  given 
up  to  a  few  wholly  unimportant  examinations,  began 
with  wrath  and  war.  Mr.  King  had  discovered  that 
nearly  all  his  house — it  lay,  as  you  know,  next  door 
but  one  to  Prout's  in  the  long  range  of  buildings — had 
unlocked  the  doors  between  the  dormitories  and  had 
gone  in  to  listen  to  a  story  told  by  Crandall.  He  went 
to  the  Head,  clamorous,  injured,  appealing;  for  he 
never  approved  of  allowing  so-called  young  men  of  the 
world  to  contaminate  the  morals  of  boyhood.  Very 
good,  said  the  Head.  He  would  attend  to  it. 

"  "Well,  I'm  awf 'ly  sorry,"  said  Crandall  guiltily. 
"  I  don't  think  I  told  'em  anything  they  oughtn't 
to  hear.  Don't  let  them  get  into  trouble  on  my  ac- 
count." 

"Tck!  "  the  Head  answered,  with  the  ghost  of  a 
wink.  "  It  isn't  the  boys  that  make  trouble ;  it's  the 
masters.  However,  Prout  and  King  don't  approve  of 
dormitory  gatherings  on  this  scale,  and  one  must  back 
up  the  house-masters.  Moreover,  it's  hopeless  to  pun- 
ish two  houses  only,  so  late  in  the  term.  We  must  be 
fair  and  include  everybody.  Let's  see.  They  have 
[206] 


A   LITTLE   PEEP. 

a  holiday  task  for  the  Easters,  which,  of  course,  none 
of  them  will  ever  look  at.  We  will  give  the  whole 
school,  except  prefects  and  study-boys,  regular  prep, 
to-night;  and  the  Common-room  will  have  to  supply 
a  master  to  take  it.  We  must  be  fair  to  all." 

"Prep,  on  the  last  night  of  the  term.  Whew!  " 
said  Crandall,  thinking  of  his  own  wild  youth.  "  I 
fancy  there  will  be  larks." 

The  school,  frolicking  among  packed  trunks,  whoop- 
ing down  the  corridor,  and  "  gloating  "  in  form-rooms, 
received  the  news  with  amazement  and  rage.  No 
school  in  the  world  did  prep,  on  the  last  night  of  the 
term.  This  thing  was  monstrous,  tyrannical,  sub- 
versive of  law,  religion,  and  morality.  They  would 
go  into  the  form-rooms,  and  they  would  take  their 
degraded  holiday  task  with  them,  but — here  they 
smiled  and  speculated  what  manner  of  man  the  Com- 
mon-room would  send  up  against  them.  The  lot  fell 
on  Mason,  credulous  and  enthusiastic,  who  loved 
youth.  No  other  master  was  anxious  to  take  that 
"  prep.,"  for  the  school  lacked  the  steadying  influence 
of  tradition;  and  men  accustomed  to  the  ordered  rou- 
tine of  ancient  foundations  found  it  occasionally  in- 
subordinate. The  four  long  form-rooms,  in  which  all 
below  the  rank  of  study-boys  worked,  received  him 
with  thunders  of  applause.  Ere  he  had  coughed  twice 
they  favored  him  with  a  metrical  summary  of  the 
marriage-laws  of  Great  Britain,  as  recorded  by  the 
[207] 


STALKY   &    CO. 

High  Priest  of  the  Israelites  and  commented  on  by  the 
leader  of  the  host.  The  lower  forms  reminded  him 
that  it  was  the  last  day,  and  that  therefore  he  must 
"  take  it  all  in  play."  When  he  dashed  off  to  rebuke 
them,  the  Lower  Fourth  and  Upper  Third  began  with 
one  accord  to  be  sick,  loudly  and  realistically.  Mr. 
Mason  tried,  of  all  vain  things  under  heaven,  to  argue 
with  them,  and  a  bold  soul  at  a  back  desk  bade  him 
"  take  fifty  lines  for  not  'olding  up  'is  'and  before 
speaking."  As  one  who  prided  himself  upon  the  pre- 
cision of  his  English  this  cut  Mason  to  the  quick,  and 
while  he  was  trying  to  discover  the  offender,  the  Upper 
and  Lower  Second,  three  form-rooms  away,  turned  out 
the  gas  and  threw  ink-pots.  It  was  a  pleasant  and 
stimulating  "prep."  The  study-boys  and  prefects 
heard  the  echoes  of  it  far  off,  and  the  Common-room 
at  dessert  smiled. 

Stalky  waited,  watch  in  hand,  till  half -past  eight. 

"  If  it  goes  on  much  longer  the  Head  will  come  up," 
said  he.  "  We'll  tell  the  studies  first,  and  then  the 
form-rooms.  Look  sharp!  " 

He  allowed  no  time  for  Beetle  to  be  dramatic  or 
McTurk  to  drawl.  They  poured  into  study  after 
study,  told  their  tale,  and  went  again  so  soon  as  they 
saw  they  were  understood,  waiting  for  no  comment; 
while  the  noise  of  that  unholy  "  prep."  grew  and  deep- 
ened.  By  the  door  of  Flint's  study  they  met  Mason 
flying  towards  the  corridor. 

£208] 


A   LITTLE   PREP. 

<e  He's  gone  to  fetch  the  Head.  Hurry  up !  Come 
on!" 

They  broke  into  Number  Twelve  form-room  abreast 
and  panting. 

"The  Head!  The  Head!  The  Head!"  That  call 
stilled  the  tumult  for  a  minute,  and  Stalky,  leaping  to 
a  desk,  shouted,  "  He  went  and  sucked  the  diphtheria 
stuff  out  of  Stettson  major's  throat  when  we  thought 
he  was  in  town.  Stop  rotting,  you  asses!  Stettson 
major  would  have  croaked  if  the  Head  hadn't  done  it. 
The  Head  might  have  died  himself.  Crandall  says  it's 
the  bravest  thing  any  livin'  man  can  do,  and  I " — his 
voice  cracked — "  the  Head  don't  know  we  know!  " 

McTurk  and  Beetle,  jumping  from  desk  to  desk, 
drove  the  news  home  among  the  junior  forms.  There 
was  a  pause,  and  then,  Mason  behind  him,  the  Head 
entered.  It  was  in  the  established  order  of  things  that 
no  boy  should  speak  or  move  under  his  eye.  He  ex- 
pected the  hush  of  awe.  He  was  received  with  cheers 
— steady,  ceaseless  cheering.  Being  a  wise  man,  he 
went  away,  and  the  forms  were  silent  and  a  little 
frightened. 

"  It's  all  right,"  said  Stalky.  "  He  can't  do  much. 
'Tisn't  as  if  you'd  pulled  the  desks  r,p  like  we  did  when 
old  Carleton  took  prep.  once.  Keep  it  up !  Hear  'em 
cheering  in  the  studies!  "  He  rocketed  out  with  a 
yell,  to  find  Flint  and  the  prefects  lifting  the  roof  ofi 
the  corridor. 

[209] 


STALKY   &    CO. 

When  the  Head  of  a  limited  liability  company,  pay- 
ing four  per  cent.,  is  cheered  on  his  saintly  way  to 
prayers,  not  only  by  four  form-rooms  of  boys  waiting 
punishment,  but  by  his  trusted  prefects,  he  can  either 
ask  for  an  explanation  or  go  his  road  with  dignity, 
while  the  senior  house-master  glares  like  an  excited 
cat  and  points  out  to  a  white  and  trembling  mathe- 
matical master  that  certain  methods — not  his,  thank 
God — usually  produce  certain  results.  Out  of  deli- 
cacy the  Old  Boys  did  not  attend  that  call-over;  and  it 
was  to  the  school  drawn  up  in  the  gymnasium  that  the 
Head  spoke  icily. 

"  It  is  not  often  that  I  do  not  understand  you;  but 
I  confess  I  do  not  to-night.  Some  of  you,  after  your 
idiotic  performances  at  prep.,  seem  to  think  me  a  fit 
person  to  cheer.  I  am  going  to  show  you  that  I  am 
not." 

Crash — crash — crash — came  the  triple  cheer  that 
disproved  it,  and  the  Head  glowered  under  the 
gas. 

"  That  is  enough.  You  will  gain  nothing.  The 
little  boys  (the  Lower  School  did  not  like  that  form  of 
address)  will  do  me  three  hundred  lines  apiece  in  the 
holidays.  I  shall  take  no  further  notice  of  them.  The 
Upper  School  will  do  me  one  thousand  lines  apiece  in 
the  holidays,  to  be  shown  up  the  evening  of  the  day 
they  come  back.  And  further — 

"  Gummy,  what  a  glutton!  "  Stalky  whispered. 
[210] 


A   LITTLE   PREP. 

"  For  your  behavior  towards  Mr.  Mason  I  intend 
to  lick  the  whole  of  the  Upper  School  to-morrow  when 
I  give  you  your  journey-money.  This  will  include 
the  three  study-boys  I  found  dancing  on  the  form- 
room  desks  when  I  came  up.  Prefects  will  stay  after 
call-over." 

The  school  filed  out  in  silence,  but  gathered  in 
groups  by  the  gymnasium  door  waiting  what  might 
befall. 

"And  now,  Flint,"  said  the  Head,  "will  you  be 
good  enough  to  give  me  some  explanation  of  your 
conduct? " 

""Well,  sir,"  said  Flint  desperately,  "if  you  save 
a  chap's  life  at  the  risk  of  your  own  when  he's  dyin' 
of  diphtheria,  and  the  Coll.  finds  it  out,  wha-what  can 
you  expect,  sir? " 

"  Tim,  I  see.  Then  that  noise  was  not  meant  for — 
ah,  cheek.  I  can  connive  at  immorality,  but  I  cannot 
stand  impudence.  However,  it  does  not  excuse  their 
insolence  to  Mr.  Mason.  I'll  forego  the  lines  this 
once,  remember;  but  the  lickings  hold  good." 

When  this  news  was  made  public,  the  school,  lost  in 
wonder  and  admiration,  gasped  at  the  Head  as  he  went 
to  his  house.  Here  was  a  man  to  be  reverenced.  On 
the  rare  occasions  when  he  caned  he  did  it  very 
scientifically,  and  the  execution  of  a  hundred  boys 
would  be  epic — immense. 

"  It's  all  right,  Head  Sahib.  We  know,"  said  Cran- 
[211] 


STALKY   &    CO. 

dall,  as  the  Head  slipped  off  his  gown  with  a  grunt  in 
his  smoking-room.  "  I  found  out  just  now  from  our 
substitute.  He  was  gettin'  my  opinion  of  your  per- 
formance last  night  in  the  dormitory.  I  didn't  know 
then  that  it  was  you  he  was  talkin'  about.  Crafty 
young  animal.  Freckled  chap  with  eyes — Corkran,  I 
think  his  name  is." 

"  Oh,  I  know  him,  thank  you,"  said  the  Head,  and 
reflectively .  "  Ye-es,  I  should  have  included  them 
even  if  I  hadn't  seen  'em." 

"  If  the  old  Coll.  weren't  a  little  above  themselves 
already,  we'd  chair  you  down  the  corridor,"  said  the 
Engineer.  "  Oh,  Bates,  how  could  you?  You  might 
have  caught  it  yourself,  and  where  would  we  have 
been,  then? " 

"  I  always  knew  you  were  worth  twenty  of  us  any 
day.  jSTow  I'm  sure  of  it,"  said  the  Squadron  Com- 
mander, looking  round  for  contradictions. 

"  He  isn't  fit  to  manage  a  school,  though.  Promise 
you'll  never  do  it  again,  Bates  Sahib.  We — we  can't 
go  away  comfy  in  our  minds  if  you  take  these  risks," 
said  the  Gunner. 

"  Bates  Sahib,  you  aren't  ever  goin'  to  cane  the 
whole  Upper  School,  are  you?  "  said  Crandall. 

"  I  can  connive  at  immorality,  as  I  said,  but  I  can't 
stand  impudence.  Mason's  lot  is  quite  hard  enough 
even  when  I  back  him.  Besides,  the  men  at  the  golf- 
club  heard  them  singing  '  Aaron  and  Moses.'  I  shall 
[212] 


A   LITTLE   PREP. 

have  complaints  about  that  from  the  parents  of  day- 
boys.    Decency  must  be  preserved." 

"  "We're  coming  to  help,"  said  all  the  guests. 

The  Upper  School  were  caned  one  after  the  other, 
their  overcoats  over  their  arms,  the  brakes  waiting  in 
the  road  below  to  take  them  to  the  station,  their  jour- 
ney-money on  the  table.  The  Head  began  with  Stalky, 
McTurk,  and  Beetle.  He  dealt  faithfully  by  them. 

"And  here's  your  journey-money.  Good-by,  and 
pleasant  holidays." 

"  Good-by.     Thank  you,  sir.     Good-by." 

They  shook  hands. 

"  Desire  don't  outrun  performance — much — this 
mornin'.  We  got  the  cream  of  it,"  said  Stalky.  "  Now 
wait  till  a  few  chaps  come  out,  and  we'll  really  cheer 
him." 

"  Don't  wait  on  our  account,  please,"  said  Crandall, 
speaking  for  the  Old  Boys.  "  We're  going  to  begin 
now." 

It  was  very  well  so  long  as  the  cheering  was  con- 
fined to  the  corridor,  but  when  it  spread  to  the  gymna- 
sium, when  the  boys  awaiting  their  turn  cheered,  the 
Head  gave  it  up  in  despair,  and  the  remnant  flung 
themselves  upon  him  to  shake  hands. 

Then  they  seriously  devoted  themselves  to  cheering 
till  the  brakes  were  hustled  off  the  premises  in  dumb- 
show. 

[213] 


STALKY   &   CO. 

"  Didn't  I  say  I'd  get  even  with  him?  "  said  Stalky 
on  the  box-seat,  as  they  swung  into  the  narrow 
Northam  street.  "Now  all  together — takin'  time 
from  your  Uncle  Stalky: 

"  It's  a  way  we  have  in  the  Army, 
It's  a  way  we  have  in  the  Navy, 
It's  a  way  we  have  at  the  Public  Schools, 
Which  nobody  can  deny  ! " 


THE   FLAG   OF   THEIR   COUNTRY. 

IT  was  winter  and  bitter  cold  of  mornings.  Con- 
sequently Stalky  and  Beetle — McTurk  being  of  the 
offensive  type  that  makes  ornate  toilet  under  all  cir- 
cumstances— drowsed  till  the  last  moment  before 
turning  out  to  call-over  in  the  gas-lit  gymnasium. 
It  followed  that  they  were  often  late;  and  since 
every  unpunctuality  earned  them  a  black  mark,  and 
since  three  black  marks  a  week  meant  defaulters' 
drill,  equally  it  followed  that  they  spent  hours  un- 
der the  Sergeant's  hand.  Foxy  drilled  the  default- 
ers with  all  the  pomp  of  his  old  parade-ground. 

"  Don't  think  it's  any  pleasure  to  me  "  (his  intro- 
duction never  varied).  "  I'd  much  sooner  be  smok- 
ing a  quiet  pipe  in  my  own  quarters — but  I  see  we 
'ave  the  Old  Brigade  on  our  'ands  this  afternoon. 
If  I  only  'ad  you  regular,  Muster  Corkran,"  said 
he,  dressing  the  line. 

"You've  had  me  for  nearly  six  weeks,  you  old 
glutton.  Number  off  from  the  right!  " 

"  Not  quite  so  previous,  please.  I'm  taking  thi* 
15  [  215  ] 


STALKY    &    CO. 

drill.  Left,  half — turn!  Slow— march. "  Twenty- 
five  sluggards,  all  old  offenders,  filed  into  the  gym- 
nasium. "  Quietly  provide  yourselves  with  the  req- 
uisite dumb-bells;  returnin'  quietly  to  your  place. 
Number  off  from  the  right,  in  a  low  voice.  Odd 
numbers  one  pace  to  the  front.  Even  numbers 
stand  fast.  Now,  leanin'  forward  from  the  'ips, 
takin'  your  time  from  me." 

The  dumb-bells  rose  and  fell,  clashed  and  were  re- 
turned as  one.  The  boys  were  experts  at  the  weary 
game. 

"  Ye-ry  good.  I  shall  be  sorry  when  any  of  you 
resume  your  'abits  of  punctuality.  Quietly  re- 
turn dumb-bells.  "We  will  now  try  some  simple 
drill." 

•' '  Ugh !    I  know  that  simple  drill . ' ' 

"  It  would  be  'ighly  to  your  discredit  if  you  did 
not,  Muster  Corkran.  At  the  same  time,  it  is  not 
so  easy  as  it  looks." 

"Bet  you  a  bob,  I  can  drill  as  well  as  you, 
Foxy." 

"  We'll  see  later.  Now  try  to  imagine  you  ain't 
defaulters  at  all,  but  an  'arf  company  on  parade,  me 
bein'  your  commandin'  officer.  There's  no  call  to 
laugh.  If  you're  lucky,  most  of  you  will  'ave 
to  take  drills  'arf  your  life.  Do  me  a  little 
credit.  You've  been  at  it  long  enough,  goodness 
knows  " 

[216] 


THE   FLAG    OF   THEIK    COUNTRY. 

They  were  formed  into  fours,  marched,  wheeled, 
and  countermarched,  the  spell  of  ordered  motion 
strong  on  them.  As  Foxy  said,  they  had  been  at  it 
a  long  time. 

The  gymnasium  door  opened,  revealing  McTurk 
in  charge  of  an  old  gentleman. 

The  Sergeant,  leading  a  wheel,  did  not  see. 
"Not  so  bad,"  he  murmured.  "Not  'arf  so  bad. 
The  pivot-man  of  the  wheel  Jionly  marks  time,  Mus- 
ter Swayne.  Now,  Muster  Corkran,  you  say  you 
know  the  drill  ?  Oblige  me  by  takin'  over  the  com- 
mand and,  reversin'  my  words  step  by  step,  relegate 
them  to  their  previous  formation." 

"What's  this?  What's  this?"  cried  the  visitor 
authoritatively. 

"A — a  little  drill,  sir,"  stammered  Foxy,  saying 
nothing  of  first  causes. 

"  Excellent — excellent.  I  only  wish  there  were 
more  of  it,"  he  chirruped.  "Don't  let  me  inter- 
rupt. You  were  just  going  to  hand  over  to  some 
one,  weren't  you?"  He  sat  down,  breathing 
frostily  in  the  chill  air. 

"I  shall  muck  it.  I  know  I  shall,"  whispered 
Stalky  uneasily;  and  his  discomfort  was  not  light- 
ened by  a  murmur  from  the  rear  rank  that  the  old 
gentleman  was  General  Collinson,  a  member  of  the 
College  Board  of  Council. 

"  Eh— what  ? ' '  said  Foxy. 
[217] 


STALKY   &    CO. 

"  Collinson,  K.C.B. — He  commanded  the  Pompa- 
dours— my  father's  old  regiment,"  hissed  Swayne 
major. 

"Take  your  time,"  said  the  visitor.  "/  know 
how  it  feels.  Your  first  drill — eh  ?  ' ' 

"Yes,  sir."  He  drew  an  unhappy  breath. 
"  'Tention.  Dress!"  The  echo  of  his  own  voice 
restored  his  confidence. 

The  wheel  was  faced  about,  flung  back,  broken 
into  fours,  and  restored  to  line  without  a  falter. 
The  official  hour  of  punishment  was  long  passed, 
but  no  one  thought  of  that.  They  were  backing  up 
Stalky — Stalky  in  deadly  fear  lest  his  voice  should 
crack. 

"  He  does  you  credit,  Sergeant,"  was  the  visitor's 
comment.  ' '  A  good  drill — and  good  material  to 
drill.  Now,  it's  an  extraordinary  thing:  I've  been 
lunching  with  your  head-master  and  he  never  told 
me  you  had  a  cadet-corps  in  the  College." 

"  We  'aven't,  sir.  This  is  only  a  little  drill,"  said 
the  Sergeant. 

"But  aren't  they  keen  on  it?"  said  McTurk, 
speaking  for  the  first  time,  with  a  twinkle  in  his 
deep-set  eyes. 

"  Why  aren't  you  in  it,  though,  Willy  ?  " 

"Oh,  I'm  not  punctual  enough,"  said  McTurk. 
"  The  Sergeant  only  takes  the  pick  of  us." 

"Dismiss!  Break  off!"  cried  Foxy,  fearing  an 
[218] 


THE  FLAG  OF  THEIE  COUNTRY. 

explosion  in  the  ranks.  "I — I  ought  to  have  told 
you,  sir,  that " 

"  But  you  should  have  a  cadet-corps."  The  Gen- 
eral pursued  his  own  line  of  thought.  "  You  shall 
have  a  cadet-corps,  too,  if  my  recommendation  in 
Council  is  any  use.  I  don't  know  when  I've  been 
so  pleased.  Boys  animated  by  a  spirit  like  yours 
should  set  an  example  to  the  whole  school." 

"  They  do,"  said  McTurk. 

"  Bless  my  soul !  Can  it  be  so  late?  I've  kept 
my  fly  waiting  half  an  hour.  Well,  I  must  run 
away.  Nothing  like  seeing  things  for  one's  self. 
Which  end  of  the  buildings  does  one  get  out  at? 
"Will  you  show  me,  "Willy  ?  "Who  was  that  boy  who 
took  the  drill  ?" 

"  Corkran,  I  think  his  name  is." 

"You  ought  to  know  him.  That's  the  kind  of 
boy  you  should  cultivate.  Evidently  an  unusual 
sort.  A  wonderful  sight.  Five  and  twenty  boys, 
who,  I  dare  say,  would  much  sooner  be  playing 
cricket — ' '  (it  was  the  depth  of  winter ;  but  grown 
people,  especially  those  who  have  lived  long  in  for- 
eign parts,  make  these  little  errors,  and  McTurk  did 
not  correct  him) — "  drilling  for  the  sheer  love  of  it. 
A  shame  to  waste  so  much  good  stuff ;  but  I  think  I 
can  carry  my  point." 

"An'  who's  your  friend  with  the  white  whiskers  ?  " 
demanded  Stalky,  on  McTurk's  return  to  the  study. 
[219] 


STALKY    &    CO. 

"  General  Collinson.  He  comes  over  to  shoot 
with  my  father  sometimes.  Rather  a  decent  old 
bargee,  too.  He  said  I  ought  to  cultivate  your  ac- 
quaintance, Stalky." 

"  Did  he  tip  you  ?" 

McTurk  exhibited  a  blessed  whole  sovereign. 

"  Ah,"  said  Stalky,  annexing  it,  for  he  was  treas- 
urer. "  "We'll  have  a  hefty  brew.  You'd  pretty 
average  cool  cheek,  Turkey,  to  jaw  about  ow  keen- 
ness an'  punctuality." 

"  Didn't  the  old  boy  know  we  were  defaulters?  " 
said  Beetle. 

"  Not  him.  He  came  down  to  lunch  with  the 
Head.  I  found  him  pokin'  about  the  place  on  his 
own  hook  afterwards,  an'  I  thought  I'd  show  him 
the  giddy  drill.  When  I  found  he  was  so  pleased, 
I  wasn't  goin'  to  damp  his  giddy  ardor.  He 
mightn't  ha'  given  me  the  quid  if  I  had." 

"  Wasn't  old  Foxy  pleased  ?  Did  you  see  him  get 
pink  behind  the  ears?"  said  Beetle.  " It  was  an 
awful  score  for  him.  Didn't  we  back  him  up  beau- 
tifully ?  Let's  go  down  to  Keyte's  and  get  some 
cocoa  and  sassingers. " 

They  overtook  Foxy,  speeding  down  to  retail  the 
adventure  to  Keyte,  who  in  his  time  had  been  Troop 
Sergeant-Major  in  a  cavalry  regiment,  and  now,  a 
war-worn  veteran,  was  local  postmaster  and  con- 
fectioner. 

[220] 


THE   FLAG   OF   THEIR    COUNTRY. 

"You  owe  us  something,"  said  Stalky,  with 
meaning. 

"  I'm 'ighly  grateful,  Muster  Corkran.  I've 'ad 
to  run  against  you  pretty  hard  in  the  way  o'  busi- 
ness, now  and  then,  but  I  will  say  that  outside  o' 
business — bounds  an'  smokin',  an'  such  like — I  don't 
wish  to  have  a  more  trustworthy  young  gentleman 
to  'elp  me  out  of  a  hole.  The  way  you  'andled  the 
drill  was  beautiful,  though  I  say  it.  Now,  if  you 
come  regular  henceforward " 

"  But  he'll  have  to  be  late  three  times  a  week," 
said  Beetle.  "  You  can't  expect  a  chap  to  do  that 
— just  to  please  you,  Foxy." 

"Ah,  that's  true.  Still,  if  you  could  manage  it 
— and  you,  Muster  Beetle — it  would  give  you  a  big 
start  when  the  cadet-corps  is  formed.  I  expect  the 
General  will  recommend  it." 

They  raided  Keyte's  very  much  at  their  own 
sweet  will,  for  the  old  man,  who  knew  them  well, 
was  deep  in  talk  with  Foxy. 

"  I  make  what  we've  taken  seven  and  six,"  Stalky 
called  at  last  over  the  counter;  "but  you'd  better 
count  for  yourself." 

"  No — no.  I'd  take  your  word  any  day,  Muster 
Corkran. — In  the  Pompadours,  was  he,  Sergeant? 
We  lay  with  them  once — at  Umballa,  I  think  it  was. " 

"  I  don't  know  whether  this  ham-and-tongue  tin 
is  eighteen  pence  or  one  an'  four." 
[221] 


STALKY   &    CO. 

"  Say  one  an'  fourpence,  Muster  Corkran.  .  .  . 
Of  course,  Sergeant,  if  it  was  any  use  to  give  my 
time,  I'd  be  pleased  to  do  it,  but  I'm  too  old.  I'd 
like  to  see  a  drill  again. ' ' 

"Oh,  come  on,  Stalky,"  cried  McTurk.  "He 
isn't  listenin'  to  you.  Chuck  over  the  money." 

"  I  want  the  quid  changed,  you  ass.  Keyte!  Pri- 
vate Keyte!  Corporal  Keyte!  Terroop- Sergeant- 
Major  Keyte,  will  you  give  me  change  for  a  quid  ?  ' ' 

"Yes — yes,  of  course.  Seven  an'  six."  He 
stared  abstractedly,  pushed  the  silver  over,  and 
melted  away  into  the  darkness  of  the  back  room. 

"  Now  those  two'll  jaw  about  the  Mutiny  till  tea^ 
time,"  said  Beetle. 

"Old  Keyte  was  at  Sobraon,"  said  Stalky. 
"Hear  him  talk  about  that  sometimes!  Beats 
Foxy  hollow." 

The  Head's  face,  inscrutable  as  ever,  was  bent 
over  a  pile  of  letters. 

"What  do  you  think?"  he  said  at  last  to  the 
Reverend  John  Gillett. 

"It's  a  good  idea.  There's  no  denying  that — an 
estimable  idea." 

' '  We  concede  that  much.     Well  ?  ' ' 

"I  have  my  doubts  about  it — that's  all.  The 
more  I  know  of  boys  the  less  do  I  profess  myself 
capable  of  f ollowing  their  moods ;  but  I  own  I  shall 
[222] 


THE   FLAG    OF    THEIR   COUNTRY. 

be  very  much  surprised  if  the  scheme  takes.  It — it 
isn't  the  temper  of  the  school.  We  prepare  for  the 
Army. ' ' 

"  My  business — in  this  matter — is  to  carry  out  the 
wishes  of  the  Council.  They  demand  a  volunteer 
cadet-corps.  A  volunteer  cadet-corps  will  be  fur- 
nished. I  have  suggested,  however,  that  we  need 
not  embark  upon  the  expense  of  uniforms  till  we 
are  drilled.  General  Collinson  is  sending  us  fifty 
lethal  weapons — cut-down  Sniders,  he  calls  them— 
all  carefully  plugged. " 

"Yes,  that  is  necessary  in  a  school  that  uses 
loaded  saloon-pistols  to  the  extent  we  do."  The 
Keverend  John  smiled. 

"  Therefore  there  will  be  no  outlay  except  the 
Sergeant's  time." 

" But  if  he  fails  you  will  be  blamed." 

"  Oh,  assuredly.  I  shall  post  a  notice  in  the  cor- 
ridor this  afternoon,  and — 

"  I  shall  watch  the  result." 

"Kindly  keep  your  'ands  off  the  new  arm-rack." 
Foxy  wrestled  with  a  turbulent  crowd  in  the  gym^ 
nasium.  "  Nor  it  won't  do  even  a  condemned 
Snider  any  good  to  be  continual  snappin'  the  lock, 
Mr.  Swayne. — Yiss,  the  uniforms  will  come  later, 
when  we're  more  proficient ;  at  present  we  will  con- 
fine ourselves  to  drill.  I  am  'ere  for  the  purpose  of 

[223] 


STALKY   &    CO. 

takin'  the  names  o'  those  willin'  to  join. — Put  down 
that  Snider,  Muster  Hogan!  " 

"What  are  you  goin'  to  do,  Beetle?"  said  a 
voice. 

"  I've  had  all  the  drill  /want,  thank  you." 

"What!  After  all  you've  learned?  Come  on. 
Don't  be  a  scab !  They'll  make  you  corporal  in  a 
week,"  cried  Stalky. 

"I'm  not  goin'  up  for  the  Army."  Beetle 
touched  his  spectacles. 

"  Hold  on  a  shake,  Foxy,"  said  Hogan.  "  Where 
are  you  goin'  to  drill  us?  " 

"  Here — in  the  gym — till  you  are  fit  an'  capable 
to  be  taken  out  on  the  road. ' '  The  Sergeant  threw 
a  chest. 

"  For  all  the  INortham  cads  to  look  at  ?  Not  good 
enough,  Foxibus." 

"  Well,  we  won't  make  a  point  of  it.  You  learn 
your  drill  first,  an'  later  we'll  see." 

"  Hullo,"  said  Ansell  of  Macrea's,  shouldering 
through  the  mob.  "  What's  all  this  about  a  giddy 
cadet -corps?  " 

"It  will  save  you  a  lot  o'  time  at  Sandhurst," 
the  Sergeant  replied  promptly.  "You'll  be  dis- 
missed your  drills  early  if  you  go  up  with  a  good 
groundin'  before'and." 

"Hm!  'Don't  mind  learnin'  my  drill,  but  I'm 
not  goin'  to  ass  about  the  country  with  a  toy 
[224] 


THE  FLAG  OF  THEIR  COUNTRY. 

Snider.  Perowne,  what  are  you  goin'  to  do? 
Hogan's  joinin'." 

"Don't  know  whether  I've  the  time,"  said 
Perowne.  "  I've  got  no  end  of  extra-tu  as  it  is." 

"  Well,  call  this  extra-tu,"  said  Ansell.  "  'T won't 
take  us  long  to  mug  up  the  drill. ' ' 

"  Oh,  that's  right  enough,  but  what  about  march- 
in'  in  public?"  said  Hogan,  not  foreseeing  that 
three  years  later  he  should  die  in  the  Burmese  sun- 
light outside  Minhla  Fort. 

"Afraid  the  uniform  won't  suit  your  creamy 
complexion  ? ' '  McTurk  asked  with  a  villainous 
sneer. 

"  Shut  up,  Turkey.  You  aren't  goin'  up  for  the 
Army." 

"No,  but  I'm  goin'  to  send  a  substitute.  Hi! 
Morrell  an'  "Wake !  You  two  fags  by  the  arm-rack, 
you've  got  to  volunteer." 

Blushing  deeply — they  had  been  too  shy  to  apply 
before — the  youngsters  sidled  towards  the  Sergeant. 

"  But  I  don't  want  the  little  chaps — not  at  first," 
said  the  Sergeant  disgustedly.  "  I  want — I'd  like 
some  of  the  Old  Brigade — the  defaulters — to  stiffen 
'em  a  bit." 

"  Don't  be  ungrateful,  Sergeant.     They're  nearly 

as  big  as  you  get  'em  in  the  Army  now."     McTurk 

read  the  papers  of  those  years  and  could  be  trusted 

for  general  information,  which  he  used  as  he  used 

[225] 


STALKY   &   CO. 

his  "  tweaker."  Yet  he  did  not  know  that  "Wake 
minor  would  be  a  bimbashi  of  the  Egyptian  Army 
ere  his  thirtieth  year. 

Hogan,  Swayne,  Stalky,  Perowne,  and  Ansell 
were  deep  in  consultation  by  the  vaulting-horse, 
Stalky  as  usual  laying  down  the  law.  The  Sergeant 
watched  them  uneasily,  knowing  that  many  waited 
on  their  lead. 

"Foxy  don't  like  my  recruits,"  said  McTurk,  in 
a  pained  tone,  to  Beetle.  "  You  get  him  some." 

Nothing  loath,  Beetle  pinioned  two  more  fags — 
each  no  taller  than  a  carbine. 

"  Here  you  are,  Foxy.  Here's  food  for  powder. 
Strike  for  your  hearths  an'  homes,  you  young  brutes 
— an'  be  jolly  quick  about  it." 

"  Still  he  isn't  happy,"  said  McTurk. 

"  For  the  way  we  have  with  our  Army 
Is  the  way  we  have  with  our  Navy." 

Here  Beetle  joined  in.  They  had  found  the  poem 
in  an  old  volume  of  "Punch,"  and  it  seemed  to 
cover  the  situation : 

"  An'  both  of  'em  led  to  adversity, 
Which  nobody  can  deny  I " 

"  You  be  quiet,  young  gentlemen.  If  you  can't 
'elp — don't  'inder."  Foxy's  eye  was  still  on  the 
council  by  the  horse.  Carter,  "White*  and  Tyrrell, 


THE   FLAG    OF   THEIE    COUNTRY. 

all  boys  of  influence,  had  joined  it.     The  rest  fin- 
gered the  rifles  irresolutely. 

"Half  a  shake,"  cried  Stalky.  "Can't  we  turn 
out  those  rotters  before  we  get  to  work  ?  ' ' 

"Certainly,"  said  Foxy.  "Any  one  wishful  to 
join  will  stay  'ere.  Those  who  do  not  so  intend  will 
go  out,  quietly  closin'  the  door  be'ind  'em." 

Half  a  dozen  of  the  earnest-minded  rushed  at 
them,  and  they  had  just  time  to  escape  into  the  cor- 
ridor. 

"Well,  why  don't  you  join?"  Beetle  asked,  re- 
settling his  collar. 

"Why  didn't  you?" 

"What's  the  good?  We  aren't  goin'  up  for  the 
Army.  Besides,  I  know  the  drill — all  except  the 
manual,  of  course.  'Wonder  what  they're  doin'  in- 
side?" 

"Makin'  a  treaty  with  Foxy.  Didn't  you  hear 
Stalky  say:  '  That's  what  we'll  do — an'  if  he  don't 
like  it  he  can  lump  it '  ?  They'll  use  Foxy  for  a 
cram.  Can't  you  see,  you  idiot?  They're  goin'  up 
for  Sandhurst  or  the  Shop  in  less  than  a  year. 
They'll  learn  their  drill  an'  then  they'll  drop  it  like 
a  shot.  D'you  suppose  chaps  with  their  amount  of 
extra- tu  are  takin'  up  volunteerin'  for  fun  ?  ' ' 

"  Well,  I  don't  know.  I  thought  of  doin'  a  poem 
about  it — rottin'  'em,  you  know — '  The  Ballad  of 
the  Dogshooters  ' — eh  ?  " 

[227] 


STALKY   &   CO. 

"I  don't  think  you  can,  because  King'll  be  down 
on  the  corps  like  a  cartload  o'  bricks.  He  hasn't 
been  consulted.  He's  sniffin'  round  the  notice-board 
now.  Let's  lure  him."  They  strolled  up  carelessly 
towards  the  house-master — a  most  meek  couple. 

"  How's  this?  "  said  King  with  a  start  of  feigned 
surprise.  "  Me  thought  you  would  be  learning  to 
fight  for  your  country." 

"I  think  the  company's  full,  sir,"  said  McTurk. 

"  It's  a  great  pity,"  sighed  Beetle. 

"Forty  valiant  defenders,  have  we,  then?  How 
noble!  "What  devotion!  I  presume  that  it  is  pos- 
sible that  a  desire  to  evade  their  normal  responsi- 
bilities may  be  at  the  bottom  of  this  zeal.  Doubt- 
less they  will  be  accorded  special  privileges,  like  the 
Choir  and  the  Natural  History  Society — one  must 
not  say  Bug-hunters." 

"Oh,  I  suppose  so,  sir,"  said  McTurk,  cheerily. 
"  The  Head  hasn't  said  anything  about  it  yet,  but 
he  will,  of  course." 

"Oh,  sure  to." 

"It  is  just  possible,  my  Beetle,"  King  wheeled 
on  the  last  speaker,  "  that  the  house-masters — a 
necessary  but  somewhat  neglected  factor  in  our 
humble  scheme  of  existence — may  have  a  word  to 
say  on  the  matter.  Life,  for  the  young  at  least,  is 
not  all  weapons  and  munitions  of  war.  Education 
is  incidentally  one  of  our  aims." 
[228] 


THE   FLAG    OF    THEIR    COUNTRY. 

""What  a  consistent  pig  he  is,"  cooed  McTurk, 
when  they  were  out  of  earshot.  "  One  always 
knows  where  to  have  him.  Did  you  see  how  he 
rose  to  that  draw  about  the  Head  and  special  privi- 
leges?" 

"  Confound  him,  he  might  have  had  the  decency 
to  have  backed  the  scheme.  I  could  do  such  a 
lovely  ballad,  rottin'  it;  and  now  I'll  have  to  be  a 
giddy  enthusiast.  It  don't  bar  our  pulling  Stalky's 
leg  in  the  stucly,  does  it  ?  " 

"Oh,  no;  but  in  the  Coll.  we  must  be  pro-cadet- 
corps  like  anything.  Can't  you  make  up  a  giddy 
epigram,  a  la,  Catullus,  about  King  objectin'  to  it  ?  " 
Beetle  was  at  this  noble  task  when  Stalky  returned 
all  hot  from  his  first  drill. 

"Hullo,  my  ramrod-  hunger  !"  began  McTurk. 
"Where's  your  dead  dog?  Is  it  Defence  or  De- 
fiance?" 

"Defiance,"  said  Stalky,  and  leaped  on  him  at 
that  word.  "Look  here,  Turkey,  you  mustn't  rot 
the  corps.  We've  arranged  it  beautifully.  Foxy 
swears  he  won't  take  us  out  into  the  open  till  we  say 
we  want  to  go." 


in'  exhibition  of  immature  infants  apin' 
the  idiosyncrasies  of  their  elders.     Snff  !  '  ' 

"Have  you  drawn  King,  Beetle?"  Stalky  asked 
in  a  pause  of  the  scuffle. 

"  Not  exactly;  but  that's  his  genial  style." 
[229] 


STALKY   &    CO. 

"Well,  listen  to  your  Uncle  Stalky — who  is  a 
great  man.  Moreover  and  subsequently,  Foxy's 
goin'  to  let  us  drill  the  corps  in  turn — privatim  et 
seriatim — so  that  we'll  all  know  how  to  handle  a 
half  company  anyhow.  Ergo,  an'  propter  hoc,  when 
we  go  to  the  Shop  we  shall  be  dismissed  drill  early ; 
thus,  my  beloved  'earers,  combinin'  education  with 
wholesome  amusement." 

"  I  knew  you'd  make  a  sort  of  extra- tu  of  it,  you 
cold-blooded  brute,"  said  McTurk.  "Don't  you 
want  to  die  for  your  giddy  country  ?  " 

"  Not  if  I  can  jolly  well  avoid  it.  So  you  mustn't 
rot  the  corps." 

""We'd  decided  on  that,  years  ago,"  said  Beetle, 
scornfully.  "  King'll  do  the  rottin'." 

"  Then  you've  got  to  rot  King,  my  giddy  poet. 
Make  up  a  good  catchy  Limerick,  and  let  the  fags 
sing  it." 

"  Look  here,  you  stick  to  volunteering  and  don't 
jog  the  table." 

"  He  won't  have  anything  to  take  hold  of,"  said 
Stalky,  with  dark  significance. 

They  did  not  know  what  that  meant  till,  a  few 
days  later,  they  proposed  to  watch  the  corps  at  drill. 
They  found  the  gymnasium  door  locked  and  a  fag 
on  guard. 

"This  is  sweet  cheek,"  said  McTurk,  stoop- 
ing. 

[230] 


THE   FLAG    OF    THEIR    COUNTRY. 

"Mustn't  look  through  the  key -hole,"  said  the 
sentry. 

"I  like  that.  Why,  Wake,  you  little  beast,  I 
made  you  a  volunteer." 

"  Can't  help  it.  My  orders  are  not  to  allow  any 
one  to  look." 

"  S'pose  we  do?"  said  McTurk.  "  S'pose  we 
jolly  well  slay  you  ?  " 

"  My  orders  are,  I  am.  to  give  the  name  of  any- 
body who  interfered  with  me  on  my  post,  to  the 
corps,  an'  they'd  deal  with  him  after  drill,  accordin' 
to  martial  law. ' ' 

"What  a  brute  Stalky  is!"  said  Beetle.  They 
never  doubted  for  a  moment  who  had  devised  that 
scheme. 

"You  esteem  yourself  a  giddy  centurion,  don't 
you?  "  said  Beetle,  listening  to  the  crash  and  rattle 
of  grounded  arms  within. 

"  My  orders  are,  not  to  talk  except  to  explain  my 
orders — they'll  lick  me  if  I  do." 

McTurk  looked  at  Beetle.  The  two  shook  their 
heads  and  turned  away. 

' '  I  swear  Stalky  is  a  great  man, ' '  said  Beetle 
after  a  long  pause.  "  One  consolation  is  that  this 
sort  of  secret-society  biznai  will  drive  -King  wild." 

It  troubled  many  more  than  King,  but  the  mem- 
bers of  the  corps  were  muter  than  oysters.     Foxy, 
being  bound  by  no  vow,  carried  his  woes  to  Keyte. 
16  [  231  ] 


STALKY   &    CO. 

' '  I  never  come  across  such  nonsense  in  my  life. 
They've  tiled  the  lodge,  inner  and  outer  guard  all 
complete,  and  then  they  get  to  work,  keen  as  mus- 
tard." 

"But  what's  it  all  for?"  asked  the  ex-Troop 
Sergeant-Major. 

' '  To  learn  their  drill.  You  never  saw  anything 
like  it.  They  begin  after  I've  dismissed  'em — prac- 
tisin'  tricks;  but  out  into  the  open  they  will  not 
come — not  for  ever  so.  The  'ole  thing  is  pro-poster- 
ous.  If  you're  a  cadet-corps,  /  say,  be  a  cadet- 
corps,  instead  o'  hidin'  be'ind  locked  doors." 

"  And  what  do  the  authorities  say  about  it?  " 

"That  beats  me  again."  The  Sergeant  spoke 
fretfully.  "I  go  to  the  'Ead  an'  'e  gives  me  no 
help.  There's  times  when  I  think  he's  makin'  fun 
o'  me.  I've  never  been  a  Volunteer-sergeant,  thank 
God — but  I've  always  had  the  consideration  to  pity 
'em.  I'm  glad  o'  that." 

"  I'd  like  to  see  'em,"  said  Keyte.  "  From  your 
statements,  Sergeant,  I  can't  get  at  what  they're 
after." 

"Don't  ask  me,  Major  !  Ask  that  freckle-faced 
young  Corkran.  He's  their  generalissimo." 

One  does  not  refuse  a  warrior  of  Sobraon,  or  deny 
the  only  pastry-cook   within   bounds.      So   Keyte 
came,  by  invitation,  leaning  upon  a  stick,  tremulous 
with  old  age,  to  sit  in  a  corner  and  watch. 
[232] 


THE  FLAG  OF  THEIR  COUNTRY. 

' '  They  shape  well.  They  shape  uncommon 
well,"  he  whispered  between  evolutions. 

11  Oh,  this  isn't  what  they're  after.  Wait  till  I 
dismiss  'em." 

At  the  "break-off"  the  ranks  stood  fast.  Pe- 
rowne  fell  out,  faced  them,  and,  refreshing  his  mem- 
ory by  glimpses  at  a  red-bound,  metal-clasped  book, 
drilled  them  for  ten  minutes.  (This  is  that  Perowne 
who  was  shot  in  Equatorial  Africa  by  his  own 
men.) 

Ansell  followed  him,  and  Hogan  followed  Ansell. 
All  three  were  implicitly  obeyed. 

Then  Stalky  laid  aside  his  Snider,  and,  drawing  a 
long  breath,  favored  the  company  with  a  blast  of 
withering  invective. 

"  'Old  'ard,  Muster  Corkran.  That  ain't  in  any 
drill,"  cried  Foxy. 

"  All  right,  Sergeant.  You  never  know  what 
you  may  have  to  say  to  your  men. — For  pity's 
sake,  try  to  stand  up  without  leanin'  against  each 
other,  you  blear-eyed,  herrin1 -gutted  gutter-snipes. 
It's  no  pleasure  to  me  to  comb  you  out.  That  ought 
to  have  been  done  before  you  came  here,  you — you 
militia  brooin-stealers. " 

"  The  old  touch— the  old  touch.  We  know  it," 
said  Keyte,  wiping  his  rheumy  eyes.  "  But  where 
did  he  pick  it  up  ?  " 

"  From  his  father — or  his  uncle.  Don't  ask  me  ! 
[  233  ] 


STALKY   &    CO. 

Half  of  'em  must  have  been  born  within  earshot  o' 
the  barracks."  (Foxy  was  not  far  wrong  in  his 
guess.)  "  I've  heard  more  back-talk  since  this  vol- 
unteerin'  nonsense  began  than  I've  heard  in  a  year 
in  the  service." 

"There's  a  rear-rank  man  lookin'  as  though  his 
belly  were  in  the  pawn-shop.  Yes,  you,  Private 
Ansell,"  and  Stalky  tongue-lashed  the  victim  for 
three  minutes,  in  gross  and  in  detail. 

"  Hullo!"  He  returned  to  his  normal  tone. 
"  First  blood  to  me.  You  flushed,  Ansell.  You 
wriggled." 

"Couldn't  help  flushing,"  was  the  answer. 
"Don't  think  I  wriggled,  though." 

"  Well,  it's  your  turn  now."  Stalky  resumed  his 
place  in  the  ranks. 

"Lord,  Lord!  It's  as  good  as  a  play,"  chuckled 
the  attentive  Keyte. 

Ansell,  too,  had  been  blessed  with  relatives  in  the 
service,  and  slowly,  in  a  lazy  drawl — his  style  was 
more  reflective  than  Stalky 's — descended  the  abys- 
mal depths  of  personality. 

"Blood  to  me!"  he  shouted  triumphantly. 
"  You  couldn't  stand  it,  either."  Stalky  was  a  rich 
red,  and  his  Snider  shook  visibly. 

"  I  didn't  think  I  would,"  he  said,  struggling  for 
composure,  "but  after  a  bit  I  got  in  no  end  of  a 
bait.  Curious,  ain't  it?" 

[234] 


THE   FLAG   OF    THEIR    COUNTRY. 

"Good  for  the  temper,"  said  the  slow-moving 
Hogan,  as  they  returned  arms  to  the  rack. 

"Did  you  ever?"  said  Foxy,  hopelessly,  to 
Keyte. 

"I  don't  know  much  about  volunteers,  but  it's 
the  rummiest  show  I  ever  saw.  I  can  see  what 
they're  gettin'  at,  though.  Lord!  how  often  I've 
been  told  off  an'  dressed  down  in  my  day !  They 
shape  well — extremely  well  they  shape." 

"If  I  could  get  'em  out  into  the  open,  there's 
nothing  I  couldn't  do  with  'em,  Major.  Perhaps 
when  the  uniforms  come  down,  they'll  change  their 
mind." 

Indeed  it  was  time  that  the  corps  made  some  con- 
cession to  the  curiosity  of  the  school.  Thrice  had 
the  guard  been  maltreated  and  thrice  had  the  corps 
dealt  out  martial  law  to  the  offender.  The  school 
raged.  What  was  the  use,  they  asked,  of  a  cadet- 
corps  which  none  might  see  ?  Mr.  King  congratu- 
lated them  on  their  invisible  defenders,  and  they 
could  not  parry  his  thrusts.  Foxy  was  growing 
sullen  and  restive.  A  few  of  the  corps  expressed 
openly  doubts  as  to  the  wisdom  of  their  course;  and 
the  question  of  uniforms  loomed  on  the  near  horizon. 
If  these  were  issued,  they  would  be  forced  to  wear 
them. 

But,  as  so  often  happens  in  this  life,  the  matter 
was  suddenly  settled  from  without. 
[235] 


STALKY   &    CO. 

The  Head  had  duly  informed  the  Council  that 
their  recommendation  had  been  acted  upon,  and 
that,  so  far  as  he  could  learn,  the  boys  were  drilling. 

He  said  nothing  of  the  terms  on  which  they 
drilled.  Naturally,  General  Collinson  was  delighted 
and  told  his  friends.  One  of  his  friends  rejoiced  in 
a  friend,  a  Member  of  Parliament — a  zealous,  an  in- 
telligent, and,  above  all,  a  patriotic  person,  anxious 
to  do  the  most  good  in  the  shortest  possible  time. 
But  we  cannot  answer,  alas !  for  the  friends  of  our 
friends.  If  Collinson's  friend  had  introduced  him 
to  the  General,  the  latter  would  have  taken  his 
measure  and  saved  much.  But  the  friend  merely 
spoke  of  his  friend ;  and  since  no  two  people  in  the 
world  see  eye  to  eye,  the  picture  conveyed  to  Collin- 
son was  inaccurate.  Moreover,  the  man  was  an 
M.P.,  an  impeccable  Conservative,  and  the  General 
had  the  English  soldier's  lurking  respect  for  any 
member  of  the  Court  of  Last  Appeal.  He  was  go- 
ing down  into  the  "West  country,  to  spread  light  in 
somebody's  benighted  constituency.  "Wouldn't  it 
be  a  good  idea  if,  armed  with  the  General's  recom- 
mendation, he,  taking  the  admirable  and  newly  es- 
tablished cadet-corps  for  his  text,  spoke  a  few  words 
— "  Just  talked  to  the  boys  a  little — eh  ?  You  know 
the  kind  of  thing  that  would  be  acceptable;  and 
he'd  be  the  very  man  to  do  it.  The  sort  of  talk 
that  boys  understand,  you  know." 
[236] 


THE  FLAG  OF  THEIE  COUNTEY. 

"  They  didn't  talk  to  'em  much  in  my  time,"  said 
the  General,  suspiciously. 

"  Ah!  but  times  change — with  the  spread  of  edu- 
cation and  so  on.  The  boys  of  to-day  are  the  men 
of  to-morrow.  An  impression  in  youth  is  likely  to 
be  permanent.  And  in  these  times,  you  know,  with 
the  country  going  to  the  dogs  ?  " 

"  You're  quite  right."  The  island  was  then  en- 
tering on  five  years  of  Mr.  Gladstone's  rule;  and 
the  General  did  not  like  what  he  had  seen  of  it.  He 
would  certainly  write  to  the  Head,  for  it  was  be- 
yond question  that  the  boys  of  to-day  made  the  men 
of  to-morrow.  That,  if  he  might  say  so,  was  un- 
commonly well  put. 

In  reply,  the  Head  stated  that  he  should  be  de- 
lighted to  welcome  Mr.  Kaymond  Martin,  M.P.,  of 
whom  he  had  heard  so  much ;  to  put  him  up  for  the 
night,  and  to  allow  him  to  address  the  school  on 
any  subject  that  he  conceived  would  interest  them. 
If  Mr.  Martin  had  not  yet  faced  an  audience  of  this 
particular  class  of  British  youth,  the  Head  had  no 
doubt  that  he  would  find  it  an  interesting  expe- 
rience. 

"  And  I  don't  think  I  am  very  far  wrong  in  that 
last,"  he  confided  to  the  Reverend  John.  "  Do  you 
happen  to  know  anything  of  one  Kaymond  Mar- 
tin?" 

"  I  was  at  College  with  a  man  of  that  name,"  the 
[237] 


STALKY    &    CO. 

chaplain  replied.  "  He  was  without  form  and  void, 
so  far  as  I  remember,  but  desperately  earnest. " 

"He  will  address  the  Coll.  on  'Patriotism'  next 
Saturday." 

"  If  there  is  one  thing  our  boys  detest  more  than 
another  it  is  having  their  Saturday  evenings  broken 
into.  Patriotism  has  no  chance  beside  '  brewing.' ' 

"Nor  art  either.  D'you  remember  our  '  Even- 
ing with  Shakespeare'?"  The  Head's  eyes 
twinkled.  "  Or  the  humorous  gentleman  with  the 
magic  lantern?  " 

"An'  who  the  dooce  is  this  Eaymond  Martin, 
M.P.?"  demanded  Beetle,  when  he  read  the  notice 
of  the  lecture  in  the  corridor.  "  "Why  do  the  brutes 
always  turn  up  on  a  Saturday  ?  " 

"Ouh!  Eeomeo,  Keomeo.  Wherefore  art  thou 
Keomeo?"  said  McTurk  over  his  shoulder,  quoting 
the  Shakespeare  artiste  of  last  term.  "  Well,  he 
won't  be  as  bad  as  her,  I  hope.  Stalky,  are  you 
properly  patriotic?  Because  if  you  ain't,  this  chap's 
goin'  to  make  you." 

"  Hope  he  won't  take  up  the  whole  of  the  even- 
ing. I  suppose  we've  got  to  listen  to  him." 

1 '  "Wouldn't  miss  him  for  the  world, ' '  said  Mc- 
Turk. "  A  lot  of  chaps  thought  that  Eomeo-Komeo 
woman  was  a  bore,  /didn't.  I  liked  her!  'Mem- 
ber when  she  began  to  hiccough  in  the  middle  of  it  ? 
[238] 


THE  FLAG  OF  THEIE  COUNTRY. 

P'raps  he'll  hiccough.     "Whoever  gets  into  the  Gym 
first,  bags  seats  for  the  other  two." 

There  was  no  nervousness,  but  a  brisk  and  cheery 
affability  about  Mr.  Raymond  Martin,  M.P.,  as  he 
drove  up,  watched  by  many  eyes,  to  the  Head's 
house. 

"Looks  a  bit  of  a  bargee,"  was  McTurk's  com- 
ment. "  Shouldn't  be  surprised  if  he  was  a  Radical. 
He  rowed  the  driver  about  the  fare.  I  heard  him." 

"That  was  his  giddy  patriotism,"  Beetle  ex- 
plained. 

After  tea  they  joined  the  rush  for  seats,  secured  a 
private  and  invisible  corner,  and  began  to  criticise. 
Every  gas-jet  was  lit.  On  the  little  dais  at  the  far 
end  stood  the  Head's  official  desk,  whence  Mr.  Mar- 
tin would  discourse,  and  a  ring  of  chairs  for  the 
masters. 

Entered  then  Foxy,  with  official  port,  and  leaned 
something  like  a  cloth  rolled  round  a  stick  against 
the  desk.  No  one  in  authority  was  yet  present,  so 
the  school  applauded,  crying:  "  What's  that,  Foxy  ? 
"What  are  you  stealin'  the  gentleman's  brolly  for  ? — 
We  don't  birch  here.  We  cane!  Take  away  that 
bauble! — Number  off  from  the  right" — and  so 
forth,  till  the  entry  of  the  Head  and  the  masters 
ended  all  demonstrations. 

"  One  good  job — the  Common-room  hate  this  as 
[239] 


STALKY    &    CO. 

much  as  we  do.     Watch  King  wrigglin'  to  get  out 
of  the  draft." 

"Where's  the  Raymondiferous  Martin?  Punc- 
tuality, my  beloved  'earers,  is  the  image  o'  war " 

"  Shut  up.  Here's  the  giddy  Book.  Golly, 
what  a  dewlap!"  Mr.  Martin,  in  evening  dress, 
was  undeniably  throaty — a  tall,  generously  de- 
signed, pink-and-white  man.  Still,  Beetle  need  not 
have  been  coarse. 

"  Look  at  his  back  while  he's  talkin'  to  the  Head. 
Yile  bad.  form  to  turn  your  back  on  the  audience! 
He's  a  Philistine — a  Bopper — a  Jebusite — an'  a 
Hivite."  McTurk  leaned  back  and  sniffed  con- 
temptuously. 

In  a  few  colorless  words,  the  Head  introduced  the 
speaker  and  sat  down  amid  applause.  When  Mr. 
Martin  took  the  applause  to  himself,  they  naturally 
applauded  more  than  ever.  It  was  some  time  be- 
fore he  could  begin.  He  had  no  knowledge  of  the 
school — its  tradition  or  heritage.  He  did  not  know 
that  the  last  census  showed  that  eighty  per  cent,  of 
the  boys  had  been  born  abroad — in  camp,  canton- 
ment, or  upon  the  high  seas;  or  that  seventy-five 
per  cent,  were  sons  of  officers  in  one  or  other  of 
the  services — Willoughbys,  Paulets,  De  Castros, 
Maynes,  Randalls,  after  their  kind — looking  to  fol- 
low their  fathers'  profession.  The  Head  might 
have  told  him  this,  and  much  more;  but,  after  an 
[240] 


THE   FLAG   OF   THEIB   COUNTRY. 

hour-long  dinner  ia  his  company,  the  Head  decided 
to  say  nothing  whatever.  Mr.  Raymond  Martin 
seemed  to  know  so  much  already. 

He  plunged  into  his  speech  with  a  long-drawn, 
rasping  ""Well,  boys,"  that,  though  they  were  not 
conscious  of  it,  set  every  young  nerve  ajar.  He 
supposed  they  knew — hey? — what  he  had  come 
down  for  ?  It  was  not  often  that  he  had  an  oppor- 
tunity to  talk  to  boys.  He  supposed  that  boys  were 
very  much  the  same  kind  of  persons — some  people 
thought  them  rather  funny  persons — as  they  had 
been  in  his  youth. 

"This  man,"  said  McTurk,  with  conviction,,  uis 
the  Gadarene  Swine." 

But  they  must  remember  that  they  would  not 
always  be  boys.  They  would  grow  up  into  men, 
because  the  boys  of  to-day  made  the  men  of  to- 
morrow, and  upon  the  men  of  to-morrow  the  fair 
fame  of  their  glorious  native  land  depended. 

"If  this  goes  on,  my  beloved  'earers,  it  will  be 
my  painful  duty  to  rot  this  bargee."  Stalky  drew 
a  long  breath  through  his  nose. 

"Can't  do  that,"  said  McTurk.  "He  ain't 
chargin'  anything  for  his  Romeo." 

And  so  they  ought  to  think  of  the  duties  and  re- 
sponsibilities of  the  life  that  was  opening  before 
them.  Life  was  not  all — he  enumerated  a  few 
games,  and,  that  nothing  might  be  lacking  to  the 
[241] 


STALKY   &    CO. 

sweep  and  impact  of  his  fall,  added  "marbles." 
"  Yes,  life  was  not,"  he  said,  uall  marbles." 

There  was  one  tense  gasp — among  the  juniors 
almost  a  shriek — of  quivering  horror.  He  was  a 
heathen — an  outcast — beyond  the  extremest  pale  of 
toleration — self-damned  before  all  men.  Stalky 
bowed  his  head  in  his  hands.  McTurk,  with  a 
bright  and  cheerful  eye,  drank  in  every  word,  and 
Beetle  nodded  solemn  approval. 

Some  of  them,  doubtless,  expected  in  a  few  years 
to  have  the  honor  of  a  commission  from  the  Queen, 
and  to  wear  a  sword.  Now,  he  himself  had  had 
some  experience  of  these  duties,  as  a  Major  in  a  vol- 
unteer regiment,  and  he  was  glad  to  learn  that  they 
had  established  a  volunteer  corps  in  their  midst 
The  establishment  of  such  an  establishment  conduced 
to  a  proper  and  healthy  spirit,  which,  if  fostered, 
would  be  of  great  benefit  to  the  land  they  loved  and 
were  so  proud  to  belong  to.  Some  of  those  now 
present  expected,  he  had  no  doubt — some  of  them 
anxiously  looked  forward  to  leading  their  men 
against  the  bullets  of  England's  foes;  to  confronting 
the  stricken  field  in  all  the  pride  of  their  youthful 
manhood. 

Now  the  reserve  of  a  boy  is  tenfold  deeper  than 

the  reserve  of  a  maid,  she  being  made  for  one  end 

only  by  blind  Nature,  but  man  for  several.     With  a 

large  and  healthy  hand,  he  tore  down  these  veils, 

[242] 


THE  FLAG  OF  THEIE  COUNTEY. 

and  trampled  them  under  the  well-intentioned  feet 
of  eloquence.  In  a  raucous  voice,  he  cried  aloud 
little  matters,  like  the  hope  of  Honor  and  the  dream 
of  Glory,  that  boys  do  not  discuss  even  with  their 
most  intimate  equals,  cheerfully  assuming  that,  till 
he  spoke,  they  had  never  considered  these  possi- 
bilities. He  pointed  them  to  shining  goals,  with 
fingers  which  smudged  out  all  radiance  on  all  hori- 
zons. He  profaned  the  most  secret  places  of  their 
souls  with  outcries  and  gesticulations.  He  bade 
them  consider  the  deeds  of  their  ancestors  in  such 
a  fashion  that  they  were  flushed  to  their  tingling 
ears.  Some  of  them — the  rending  voice  cut  a  frozen 
stillness — might  have  had  relatives  who  perished  in 
defence  of  their  country.  They  thought,  not  a  few 
of  them,  of  an  old  sword  in  a  passage,  or  above  a 
breakfast-room  table,  seen  and  fingered  by  stealth 
since  they  could  walk.  He  adjured  them  to  emu- 
late those  illustrious  examples ;  and  they  looked  all 
ways  in  their  extreme  discomfort. 

Their  years  forbade  them  even  to  shape  their 
thoughts  clearly  to  themselves.  They  felt  savagely 
that  they  were  being  outraged  by  a  fat  man  who 
considered  marbles  a  game. 

And  so  he  worked  towards  his  peroration — which, 
by  the  way,  he  used  later  with  overwhelming  suc- 
cess at  a  meeting  of  electors — while  they  sat,  flushed 
and  uneasy,  in  sour  disgust.  After  many,  many 
[243] 


STALKY    &    CO. 

words,  he  reached  for  the  cloth-wrapped  stick  and 
thrust  one  hand  in  his  bosom.  This — this  was  the 
concrete  symbol  of  their  land — worthy  of  all  honor 
and  reverence!  Let  no  boy  look  on  this  flag  who 
did  not  purpose  to  worthily  add  to  its  imperishable 
lustre.  He  shook  it  before  them — a  large  calico 
Union  Jack,  staring  in  all  three  colors,  and  waited 
for  the  thunder  of  applause  that  should  crown  his 
effort. 

They  looked  in  silence.  They  had  certainly  seen 
the  thing  before — down  at  the  coastguard  station, 
or  through  a  telescope,  half-mast  high  when  a  brig 
went  ashore  on  Braunton  Sands;  above  the  roof  of 
the  Golf-club,  and  in  Keyte's  window,  where  a  cer- 
tain kind  of  striped  sweetmeat  bore  it  in  paper  on 
each  box.  But  the  College  never  displayed  it;  it 
was  no  part  of  the  scheme  of  their  lives ;  the  Head 
had  never  alluded  to  it;  their  fathers  had  not  de- 
clared it  unto  them.  It  was  a  matter  shut  up,  sacred 
and  apart.  What,  in  the  name  of  everything  cad- 
dish, was  he  driving  at,  who  waved  that  horror  be- 
fore their  eyes  ?  Happy  thought !  Perhaps  he  was 
drunk. 

The  Head  saved  the  situation  by  rising  swiftly  to 
propose  a  vote  of  thanks,  and  at  his  first  motion, 
the  school  clapped  furiously,  from  a  sense  of  relief. 

"  And  I  am  sure,"  he  concluded,  the  gaslight  full 
on  his  face,  "  that  you  will  all  join  me  in  a  very 
[2M] 


THE   FLAG   OF   THEIE   COUNTRY. 

hearty  vote  of  thanks  to  Mr.  Raymond  Martin  for 
the  most  enjoyable  address  he  has  given  us." 

To  this  day  we  shall  never  know  the  rights  of  the 
case.  The  Head  vows  that  he  did  no  such  thing ;  or 
that,  if  he  did,  it  must  have  been  something  in  his 
eye ;  but  those  who  were  present  are  persuaded  that 
he  winked,  once,  openly  and  solemnly,  after  the 
word  " enjoyable."  Mr.  Raymond  Martin  got  his 
applause  full  tale.  As  he  said,  ""Without  vanity, 
I  think  my  few  words  went  to  their  hearts.  I  never 
knew  boys  could  cheer  like  that." 

He  left  as  the  prayer-bell  rang,  and  the  boys  lined 
up  against  the  wall.  The  flag  lay  still  unrolled  on 
the  desk,  Foxy  regarding  it  with  pride,  for  he  had 
been  touched  to  the  quick  by  Mr.  Martin's  elo- 
quence. The  Head  and  the  Common-room,  stand- 
ing back  on  the  dais,  could  not  see  the  glaring 
offence,  but  a  prefect  left  the  line,  rolled  it  up 
swiftly,  and  as  swiftly  tossed  it  into  a  glove  and  foil 
locker. 

Then,  as  though  he  had  touched  a  spring,  broke 
out  the  low  murmur  of  content,  changing  to  quick- 
volleyed  hand-clapping. 

They  discussed  the  speech  in  the  dormitories. 
There  was  not  one  dissentient  voice.  Mr.  Ray- 
mond Martin,  beyond  question,  was  born  in  a  gut- 
ter, and  bred  in  a  board-school,  where  they  played 
marbles.  He  was  further  (I  give  the  barest  hand- 
[245] 


STALKY   &    CO. 

ful  from  great  store)  a  Flopshus  Cad,  an  Outra- 
geous Stinker,  a  Jelly-bellied  Flag- flapper  (this  was 
Stalkj's  contribution),  and  several  other  things 
which  it  is  not  seemly  to  put  down. 

The  volunteer  cadet-corps  fell  in  next  Monday, 
depressedly,  with  a  face  of  shame.  Even  then, 
judicious  silence  might  have  turned  the  corner. 

Said  Foxy:  "After  a  fine  speech  like  what  you 
'eard  night  before  last,  you  ought  to  take  'old  of 
your  drill  with  renewed  activity.  I  don't  see  how 
you  can  avoid  comin'  out  an'  marchin'  in  the  open 
now." 

"  Can't  we  get  out  of  it,  then,  Foxy  ?  "  Stalky 's 
fine  old  silky  tone  should  have  warned  him. 

"  ISTo,  not  with  his  giving  the  flag  so  generously. 
He  told  me  before  he  left  this  morning  that  there 
was  no  objection  to  the  corps  usin'  it  as  their  own. 
It's  a  handsome  flag." 

Stalky  returned  his  rifle  to  the  rack  in  dead 
silence,  and  fell  out.  His  example  was  followed  by 
Hogan  and  Ansell. 

Perowne  hesitated.  "Look  here,  oughtn't  we 
?  "  he  began. 

"I'll  get  it  out  of  the  locker  in  a  minute,"  said 
the  Sergeant,  his  back  turned.  "  Then  we  can " 

"  Come  on!  "  shouted  Stalky.  "  "What  the  devil 
are  you  waiting  for ?  Dismiss!  Break  off." 

«  Why— what  the— where  the ?  " 

[246] 


THE  FLAG  OF  THEIE  COUNTRY. 

The  rattle  of  Sniders,  slammed  into  the  rack, 
drowned  his  voice,  as  boy  after  boy  fe!5  out. 

"I — I  don't  know  that  I  shan't  have  to  report 
this  to  the  Head,"  he  stammered. 

"Report,  then,  and  be  damned  to  you,"  cried 
Stalky,  white  to  the  lips,  and  ran  out. 

"Rummy  thing!"  said  Beetle  to  McTurk.  "I 
was  in  the  study,  doin'  a  simply  lovely  poem  about 
the  Jelly-Bellied  Flag-Flapper,  an'  Stalky  came  in, 
an'  I  said  '  Hullo ! '  an'  he  cursed  me  like  a  bargee, 
and  then  he  began  to  blub  like  anything.  Shoved 
his  head  on  the  table  and  howled.  Hadn't  we  bet- 
ter do  something  ?  " 

McTurk  was  troubled.  "  P'raps  he's  smashed 
himself  up  somehow." 

They  found  him,  with  very  bright  eyes,  whistling 
between  his  teeth. 

" Did  I  take  you  in,  Beetle?  I  thought  I  would. 
"Wasn't  it  a  good  draw?  Didn't  you  think  I  was 
blubbin'  ?  Didn't  I  do  it  well  ?  Oh,  you  fat  old 
ass!"  And  he  began  to  pull  Beetle's  ears  and 
cheeks,  in  the  fashion  that  was  called  "  milking." 

"  I  knew  you  were  blubbin',"  Beetle  replied,  com- 
posedly. "  Why  aren't  you  at  drill  ?  " 

"Drill!    What  drill?" 

"Don't  try  to  be  a  clever  fool.  Drill  in  the 
Gym." 

17  (247] 


STALKY   &    CO. 

"  'Cause  there  isn't  any.  The  volunteer  cadet- 
corps  is  broke  up — disbanded — dead — putrid — cor- 
rupt— stinkin'.  An'  if  you  look  at  me  like  that, 
Beetle,  I'll  slay  you  too.  .  .  .  Oh,  yes,  an'  I'm 
goin'  to  be  reported  to  the  Head  for  swearin'." 


F248J 


THE    LAST    TERM. 

IT  was  within  a  few  days  of  the  holidays,  the  term- 
end  examinations,  and,  more  important  still,  the  issue 
of  the  College  paper  which  Beetle  edited.  He  had 
been  cajoled  into  that  office  by  the  blandishments  of 
Stalky  and  McTurk  and  the  extreme  rigor  of  study 
law.  Once  installed,  he  discovered,  as  others  have 
done  before  him,  that  his  duty  was  to  do  the  work 
while  his  friends  criticized.  Stalky  christened  it  the 
"  Swillingford  Patriot,"  in  pious  memory  of  Sponge — 
and  McTurk  compared  the  output  unfavorably  with 
Ruskin  and  De  Quincey.  Only  the  Head  took  an  in- 
terest in  the  publication,  and  his  methods  were  pecu- 
liar. He  gave  Beetle  the  run  of  his  brown-bound, 
tobacco-scented  library;  prohibiting  nothing,  recom- 
mending nothing.  There  Beetle  found  a  fat  arm-chair, 
a  silver  inkstand,  and  unlimited  pens  and  paper.  There 
were  scores  and  scores  of  ancient  dramatists;  there 
were  Hakluyt,  his  voyages;  French  translations  of 
Muscovite  authors  called  Pushkin  and  Lermontoff; 
little  tales  of  a  heady  and  bewildering  nature,  inter- 
spersed with  unusual  songs — Peacock  was  that  writer's 
C.249] 


STALKY   &   CO. 

name;  there  was  Borrow's  "  Lavengro "  ;  an  odd 
theme,  purporting  to  be  a  translation  of  something, 
called  a  "  Kubaiyat,"  which  the  Head  said  was  a  poem 
not  yet  come  to  its  own;  there  were  hundreds  of  vol- 
umes of  verse — Crashaw;  Dry  den;  Alexander  Smith; 
L.  E.  L.;  Lydia  Sigourney;  Fletcher  and  a  purple 
island;  Donne;  Marlowe's  "Faust";  and — this  made 
McTurk  (to  whom  Beetle  conveyed  it)  sheer  drunk  for 
three  days — Ossian;  "  The  Earthly  Paradise  "  ;  "  Ata- 
lanta  in  Calydon  "  ;  and  Kossetti — to  name  only  a  few. 
Then  the  Head,  drifting  in  under  pretense  of  playing 
censor  to  the  paper,  would  read  here  a  verse  and  here 
another  of  these  poets,  opening  up  avenues.  And, 
slow  breathing,  with  half-shut  eyes  above  his  cigar, 
would  he  speak  of  great  men  living,  and  journals,  long 
dead,  founded  in  their  riotous  youth;  of  years  when  all 
the  planets  were  little  new-lit  stars  trying  to  find  their 
places  in  the  uncaring  void,  and  he,  the  Head,  knew 
them  as  young  men  know  one  another.  So  the  regu- 
lar work  went  to  the  dogs,  Beetle  being  full  of  other 
matters  and  meters,  hoarded  in  secret  and  only  told  to 
McTurk  of  an  afternoon,  on  the  sands,  walking  high 
and  disposedly  round  the  wreck  of  the  Armada  galleon, 
shouting  and  declaiming  against  the  long-ridged  seas. 
Thanks  in  large  part  to  their  house-master's  ex- 
perienced distrust,  the  three  for  three  consecutive 
terms  had  been  passed  over  for  promotion  to  the  rank 
of  prefect — an  office  that  went  by  merit,  and  carried 
[250] 


THE   LAST    TEEM. 

with  it  the  honor  of  the  ground-ash,  and  liberty,  under 
restrictions,  to  use  it. 

"  But,"  said  Stalky,  "  come  to  think  of  it,  we've  done 
more  giddy  jesting  with  the  Sixth  since  we've  been 
passed  over  than  any  one  else  in  the  last  seven 
years." 

He  touched  his  neck  proudly.  It  was  encircled  by  the 
stiffest  of  stick-up  collars,  which  custom  decreed  could 
be  worn  only  by  the  Sixth.  And  the  Sixth  saw  those 
collars  and  said  no  word.  "  Pussy,"  Abanazar,  or  Dick 
Four  of  a  year  ago  would  have  seen  them  discarded 
in  five  minutes  or  ...  But  the  Sixth  of  that 
term  was  made  up  mostly  of  young  but  brilliantly 
clever  boys,  pets  of  the  house-masters,  too  anxious  for 
their  dignity  to  care  to  come  to  open  odds  with  the 
resourceful  three.  So  they  crammed  their  caps  at  the 
extreme  back  of  their  heads,  instead  of  a  trifle  over 
one  eye  as  the  Fifth  should,  and  rejoiced  in  patent- 
leather  boots  on  week-days,  and  marvellous  made-up 
ties  on  Sundays — no  man  rebuking.  McTurk  was 
going  up  for  Cooper's  Hill,  and  Stalky  for  Sandhurst, 
in  the  spring;  and  the  Head  had  told  them  both  that, 
unless  they  absolutely  collapsed  during  the  holidays, 
they  were  safe.  As  a  trainer  of  colts,  the  Head  sel- 
dom erred  in  an  estimate  of  form. 

He  had  taken  Beetle  aside  that  day  and  given  him 
much  good  advice,  not  one  word  of  which  did  Beetle 
remember  when  he  dashed  up  to  the  study,  white  with 
[251] 


STALKY   &   CO. 

excitement,  and  poured  out  the  wondrous  tale.     It 
demanded  a  great  belief. 

"  You  begin  on  a  hundred  a  year?  "  said  McTurk 
unsympathetically.  "  Rot !  " 

"  A nd  my  passage  out!  It's  all  settled.  The  Head 
says  he's  been  breaking  me  in  for  this  for  ever  so  long, 
and  I  never  knew — I  never  knew.  One  don't  begin 
with  writing  straight  off,  y'know.  Begin  by  filling 
in  telegrams  and  cutting  things  out  o'  papers  with 
scissors." 

"  Oh,  Scissors !  What  an  ungodly  mess  you'll  make 
of  it,"  said  Stalky.  "  But,  anyhow,  this  will  be  your 
last  term,  too.  Seven  years,  my  dearly  beloved  'earers 
— though  not  prefects." 

"  Not  half  bad  years,  either,"  said  McTurk.  "  I 
shall  be  sorry  to  leave  the  old  Coll.;  shan't  you?  " 

They  looked  out  over  the  sea  creaming  along  the 
Pebbleridge  in  the  clear  winter  light.  "  Wonder 
where  we  shall  all  be  this  time  next  year?  "  said  Stalky 
absently. 

"  This  time  five  years,"  said  McTurk. 

"  Oh,"  said  Beetle,  "  my  leavin's  between  ourselves. 
The  Head  hasn't  told  any  one.  I  know  he  hasn't, 
because  Prout  grunted  at  me  to-day  that  if  I  were 
more  reasonable — yah! — I  might  be  a  prefect  next 
term.  I  suppose  he's  hard  up  for  his  prefects." 

"  Let's  finish  up  with  a  row  with  the  Sixth,"  sug- 
gested McTurk. 

£252] 


THE   LAST    TERM. 

"  Dirty  little  schoolboys !  "  said  Stalky,  who  already 
saw  himself  a  Sandhurst  cadet.  "  What's  the  use?  " 

"  Moral  effect,"  quoth  McTurk.  "  Leave  an  im- 
perishable tradition,  and  all  the  rest  of  it." 

"  Better  go  into  Bideford  an'  pay  up  our  debts," 
said  Stalky.  "  I've  got  three  quid  out  of  my  father — 
ad  hoc.  Don't  owe  more  than  thirty  bob,  either. 
Cut  along,  Beetle,  and  ask  the  Head  for  leave.  Say 
you  want  to  correct  the  '  Swillingford  Patriot.' ' 

"  Well,  I  do,"  said  Beetle.  "  It'll  be  my  last  issue, 
and  I'd  like  it  to  look  decent.  I'll  catch  him  before 
he  goes  to  his  lunch." 

Ten  minutes  later  they  wheeled  out  in  line,  by  grace 
released  from  five  o'clock  call-over,  and  all  the  after- 
noon lay  before  them.  So  also  unluckily  did  King, 
who  never  passed  without  witticisms.  But  brigades 
of  Kings  could  not  have  ruffled  Beetle  that  day. 

"  Aha!  Enjoying  the  study  of  light  literature,  my 
friends,"  said  he,  rubbing  his  hands.  "  Common 
mathematics  are  not  for  such  soaring  minds  as  yours, 
are  they? " 

("  One  hundred  a  year,"  thought  Beetle,  smiling 
into  vacancy.) 

"  Our  open  incompetence  takes  refuge  in  the  flowery 
paths  of  inaccurate  fiction.  But  a  day  of  reckoning 
approaches,  Beetle  mine.  I  myself  have  prepared  a 
few  trifling  foolish  questions  in  Latin  prose  which  can 
hardly  be  evaded  even  by  your  practised  acts  of  de- 
[253] 


STALKY   &    CO. 

ception.  Ye-es,  Latin  prose.  I  think,  if  I  may  say 
so — but  we  shall  see  when  the  papers  are  set — l  Ulpian 
serves  your  need.'  Aha!  ' Elucescebat,  quoth  our 
friend.'  We  shall  see!  We  shall  see!  " 

Still  no  sign  from  Beetle.  He  was  on  a  steamer, 
his  passage  paid  into  the  wide  and  wonderful  world — 
a  thousand  leagues  beyond  Lundy  Island. 

King  dropped  him  with  a  snarl. 

"  He  doesn't  know.  He'll  go  on  correctin'  exercises 
an'  jawin'  an'  showin'  off  before  the  little  boys  next 
term — and  next."  Beetle  hurried  after  his  compan- 
ions up  the  steep  path  of  the  furze-clad  hill  behind 
the  College. 

They  were  throwing  pebbles  on  the  top  of  the  gas- 
ometer,  and  the  grimy  gas-man  in  charge  bade  them 
desist.  They  watched  him  oil  a  turncock  sunk  in  the 
ground  between  two  furze-bushes. 

"  Cokey,  what's  that  for?  "  said  Stalky. 

"  To  turn  the  gas  on  to  the  kitchens,"  said  Cokey. 
*  If  so  be  I  didn't  turn  her  on,  yeou  young  gen'lemen 
'ud  be  larnin'  your  book  by  candlelight." 

"Urn!  "  said  Stalky,  and  was  silent  for  at  least  a 
minute. 

"  Hullo!     Where  are  you  chaps  going?  " 

A  bend  of  the  lane  brought  them  face  to  face  with 

Tulke,  senior  prefect  of  King's  house — a  smallish, 

white-haired  boy,  of  the  type  that  must  be  promoted 

on  account  of  its  intellect,  and  ever  afterwards  ap- 

[254] 


THE   LAST   TERM. 

peals  to  the  Head  to  support  its  authority  when  zeal 
has  outrun  discretion. 

The  three  took  no  sort  of  notice.  They  were  on 
lawful  pass.  Tulke  repeated  his  question  hotly,  for  he 
had  suffered  many  slights  from  Number  Five  study, 
and  fancied  that  he  had  at  last  caught  them  tripping. 

"  What  the  devil  is  that  to  you?  "  Stalky  replied 
with  his  sweetest  smile. 

"Look  here,  I'm  not  goin' — I'm  not  goin'  to  be 
sworn  at  by  the  Fifth !  "  sputtered  Tulke. 

"  Then  cut  along  and  call  a  prefects'  meeting,"  said 
McTurk,  knowing  Tulke's  weakness. 

The  prefect  became  inarticulate  with  rage. 

"  Mustn't  yell  at  the  Fifth  that  way,"  said  Stalky. 
"  It's  vile  bad  form." 

"  Cough  it  up,  ducky!  "  McTurk  said  calmly. 

"  I — I  want  to  know  what  you  chaps  are  doing  out 
of  bounds?  "  This  with  an  important  flourish  of  his 
ground-ash. 

"  Ah,"  said  Stalky.  "  Now  we're  gettin'  at  it.  Why 
didn't  you  ask  that  before?  " 

"  Well,  I  ask  it  now.     What  are  you  doing?  " 

"  We're  admiring  you,  Tulke,"  said  Stalky.  "  We 
think  you're  no  end  of  a  fine  chap,  don't  we  ?  " 

"We  do!  We  do!  "  A  dog-cart  with  some  girls 
in  it  swept  round  the  corner,  and  Stalky  promptly 
kneeled  before  Tulke  in  the  attitude  of  prayer;  so 
Tulke  turned  a  color. 

[255] 


STALKY   &    CO. 

"  I've  reason  to  believe — "  lie  began. 

"Oyez!  Oyez!  Oyez!"  shouted  Beetle,  after  the 
manner  of  Bideford's  town  crier,  "  Tulke  has  reason 
to  believe!  Three  cheers  for  Tulke!  " 

They  were  given.  "  It's  all  our  giddy  admiration," 
said  Stalky.  "  You  know  how  we  love  you,  Tulke. 
"We  love  you  so  much  we  think  you  ought  to  go  home 
and  die.  You're  too  good  to  live,  Tulke." 

"Yes,"  said  McTurk.  "Do  oblige  us  by  dyin'. 
Think  how  lovely  you'd  look  stuffed !  " 

Tulke  swept  up  the  road  with  an  unpleasant  glare 
in  his  eye. 

"  That  means  a  prefects'  meeting — sure  pop,"  said 
Stalky.  "  Honor  of  the  Sixth  involved,  and  all  the 
rest  of  it.  Tulke'll  write  notes  all  this  afternoon,  and 
Carson  will  call  us  up  after  tea.  They  daren't  over- 
look that." 

"Bet  you  a  bob  he  follows  us!"  said  McTurk. 
"  He's  King's  pet,  and  it's  scalps  to  both  of  'em  if  we're 
caught  out.  We  must  be  virtuous." 

"  Then  I  move  we  go  to  Mother  Yeo's  for  a  last 
gorge.  We  owe  her  about  ten  bob,  and  Mary'll  weep 
sore  when  she  knows  we're  leaving,"  said  Beetle. 

"  She  gave  me  an  awful  wipe  on  the  head  last  time 
— Mary,"  said  Stalky. 

"  She  does  if  you  don't  duck,"  said  McTurk.  "  But 
she  generally  kisses  one  back.  Let's  try  Mother 
Yeo." 

[256] 


THE   LAST   TERM. 

They  sought  a  little  bottle-windowed  half  dairy, 
half  restaurant,  a  dark-browed,  two-hundred-year-old 
house,  at  the  head  of  a  narrow  side  street.  They  had 
patronized  it  from  the  days  of  their  fagdom,  and  were 
very  much  friends  at  home. 

"  We've  come  to  pay  our  debts,  mother,"  said 
Stalky,  sliding  his  arm  round  the  fifty-six-inch  waist 
of  the  mistress  of  the  establishment.  "  To  pay  our 
debts  and  say  good-by — and — and  we're  awf'ly 
hungry." 

"  Aie!  "  said  Mother  Yeo,  "makkin'  love  to  me! 
I'm  shaamed  of  'ee." 

"  'Rackon  us  wouldn't  du  no  such  thing  if  Mary  was 
here,"  said  McTurk,  lapsing  into  the  broad  North 
Devon  that  the  boys  used  on  their  campaigns. 

"  Who'm  takin'  my  name  in  vain?"  The  inner 
door  opened,  and  Mary,  fair-haired,  blue-eyed,  and 
apple-cheeked,  entered  with  a  bowl  of  cream  in  her 
hands.  McTurk  kissed  her.  Beetle  followed  suit, 
with  exemplary  calm.  Both  boys  were  promptly 
cuffed. 

"  Niver  kiss  the  maid  when  'e  can  kiss  the  mistress," 
said  Stalky,  shamelessly  winking  at  Mother  Yeo,  as  he 
investigated  a  shelf  of  jams. 

"  Glad  to  see  one  of  'ee  don't  want  his  head  slapped 
no  more?  "  said  Mary  invitingly,  in  that  direction. 

"  Neu !  Reckon  I  can  get  'em  give  me,"  said  Stalky, 
his  back  turned. 

[25T] 


STALKY   &   CO. 

"  Not  by  me — yeou  little  masterpiece !  " 

"  Niver  asked  'ee.  There's  maids  to  Northam. 
Yiss — an'  Appledore."  An  unreproducible  sniff,  half 
contempt,  half  reminiscence,  rounded  the  retort. 

"Aie!  Yeou  won't  niver  come  to  no  good  end. 
Whutt  be  'baout,  smellin'  the  cream?  " 

"  'Tees  bad,"  said  Stalky.     "  Zmell  'un." 

Incautiously  Mary  did  as  she  was  bid. 

"  Bidevoor  kiss." 

"Niver  amiss,"  said  Stalky,  taking  it  without  in- 
jury. 

"  Yeou — yeou — yeou —  '  Mary  began,  bubbling 
with  mirth. 

"  They'm  better  to  Northam — more  rich,  laike — 
an'  us  gets  them  give  back  again,"  he  said,  while  Mc- 
Turk  solemnly  waltzed  Mother  Yeo  out  of  breath,  and 
Beetle  told  Mary  the  sad  news,  as  they  sat  down  to 
clotted  cream,  jam,  and  hot  bread. 

"  Yiss.  Yeou'll  niver  zee  us  no  more,  Mary.  We'm 
goin'  to  be  passons  an'  missioners." 

"  Steady  the  Buffs!  "  said  McTurk,  looking  through 
the  blind.  "  Tulke  has  followed  us.  He's  comin'  up 
the  street  now." 

"  They've  niver  put  us  out  o'  bounds,"  said  Mother 
Yeo.  "  Bide  yeou  still,  my  little  dearrs."  She  rolled 
into  the  inner  room  to  make  the  score. 

"  Mary,"  said  Stalky,  suddenly,  with  tragic  inten- 
sity.    "  Do  'ee  lov'  me,  Mary?  " 
[258] 


THE   LAST   TERM. 

"  Iss — fai!  Tailed  'ee  zo  since  yeou  was  zo  high!  " 
the  damsel  replied. 

"  Zee  'un  comin'  up  street,  then?  "  Stalky  pointed 
to  the  unconscious  Tulke.  "  He've  niver  been  kissed 
by  no  sort  or  manner  o'  maid  in  hees  boraed  laife, 
Mary.  Oh,  'tees  shaamful!  " 

"  Whutt's  to  do  with  me?  'Twill  come  to  'un  in  the 
way  o'  nature,  I  rackon."  She  nodded  her  head  saga- 
ciously. "  You  niver  want  me  to  kiss  un — sure-fo/  ?  " 

"  Give  'ee  half-a-crown  if  'ee  will,"  said  Stalky,  ex- 
hibiting the  coin. 

Half-a-crown  was  much  to  Mary" Yeo,  and  a  jest  was 
more;  but 

"  Yeu'm  afraid,"  said  McTurk,  at  the  psychological 
moment. 

"  Aie !  "  Beetle  echoed,  knowing  her  weak  point. 
"  There's  not  a  maid  to  Northam  'ud  think  twice.  An' 
yeou  such  a  fine  maid,  tu!  " 

McTurk  planted  one  foot  firmly  against  the  inner 
door  lest  Mother  Yeo  should  return  inopportunely,  for 
Mary's  face  was  set.  It  was  then  that  Tulke  found 
his  way  blocked  by  a  tall  daughter  of  Devon — that 
county  of  easy  kisses,  the  pleasantest  under  the  sun. 
He  dodged  aside  politely.  She  reflected  a  moment, 
and  laid  a  vast  hand  upon  his  shoulder. 

"  Where  be  'ee  gwaine  tu,  my  dearr?  "  said  she. 

Over  the  handkerchief  he  had  crammed  into  his 
mouth  Stalky  could  see  the  boy  turn  scarlet. 
[259] 


STALKY   &   CO. 

"  Gie  I  a  kiss!  Don't  they  larn  'ee  manners  to  Col- 
lege?" 

Tulke  gasped  and  wheeled.  Solemnly  and  con- 
scientiously Mary  kissed  him  twice,  and  the  luckless 
prefect  fled. 

She  stepped  into  the  shop,  her  eyes  full  of  simple 
wonder. 

"  Kissed  'un?  "  said  Stalky,  handing  over  the  money. 

"Iss,  fail  But,  oh,  my  little  body,  he'm  no  Col- 
leger. 'Zeemed  tu-minded  to  cry,  laike." 

"  Well,  we  won't.  You  couldn't  make  us  cry  that 
way,"  said  McTurk.  "  Try." 

Whereupon  Mary  cuffed  them  all  round. 

As  they  went  out  with  tingling  ears,  said  Stalky 
generally,  "  Don't  think  there'll  be  much  of  a  prefects' 
meeting." 

"Won't  there,  just!"  said  Beetle.  "Look  here. 
If  he  kissed  her — which  is  our  tack — he  is  a  cynically 
immoral  hog,  and  his  conduct  is  blatant  indecency. 
Confer  orationes  Regis  furiosissimi,  when  he  collared 
me  readin'  '  Don  Juan.' ' 

"  'Course  he  kissed  her,"  said  McTurk.  "  In  the 
middle  of  the  street.  With  his  house-cap  on!  " 

"Time,  3.57  P.M.  Make  a  note  o'  that.  What 
d'you  mean,  Beetle?  "  said  Stalky. 

"  Well!  He's  a  truthful  little  beast.  He  may  say 
he  was  kissed." 

"And  then?" 

[260] 


"  The  luckless  prefect  fled. 


THE   LAST   TERM. 

41  Why,  then !  "  Beetle  capered  at  the  mere  thought 
of  it.  "  Don't  you  see?  The  corollary  to  the  giddy 
proposition  is  that  the  Sixth  can't  protect  'emselves 
from  outrages  an'  ravishin's.  Want  nursemaids  to  look 
after  'em!  We've  only  got  to  whisper  that  to  the 
Coll.  Jam  for  the  Sixth !  Jam  for  us!  Either  way 
it's  jammy!  " 

"  By  Gum!  "  said  Stalky.  "  Our  last  term's  endin' 
well.  Now  you  cut  along  an'  finish  up  your  old  rag, 
and  Turkey  and  me  will  help.  We'll  go  in  the  back 
way.  No  need  to  bother  Randall." 

"  Don't  play  the  giddy  garden-goat,  then?  "  Beetle 
knew  what  help  meant,  though  he  was  by  no  means 
averse  to  showing  his  importance  before  his  allies. 
The  little  loft  behind  Randall's  printing-office  was  his 
own  territory,  where  he  saw  himself  already  control- 
ling the  "  Times."  Here,  under  the  guidance  of  the 
inky  apprentice,  he  had  learned  to  find  his  way  more  or 
less  circuitously  about  the  case,  and  considered  himself 
an  expert  compositor. 

The  school  paper  in  its  locked  formes  lay  on  a  stone- 
topped  table,  a  proof  by  the  side;  but  not  for  worlds 
would  Beetle  have  corrected  from  the  mere  proof. 
With  a  mallet  and  a  pair  of  tweezers,  he  knocked  out 
mysterious  wedges  of  wood  that  released  the  forme, 
picked  a  letter  here  and  inserted  a  letter  there,  reading 
as  he  went  along  and  stopping  much  to  chuckle  over 
his  own  contributions. 

[261] 


STALKY   &    CO. 

"You  won't  show  off  like  that,"  said  McTurk, 
"when  you've  got  to  do  it  for  your  living.  Upside 
down  and  backwards,  isn't  it?  Let's  see  if  I  can  read 
it." 

"Get  out!"  said  Beetle.  "Go  and  read  those 
formes  in  the  rack  there,  if  you  think  you  know  so 
much." 

"Formes  in  a  rack!  "What's  that?  Don't  be  so 
beastly  professional." 

McTurk  drew  off  with  Stalky  to  prowl  about  the 
office.  They  left  little  unturned. 

"  Come  here  a  shake,  Beetle.  What's  this  thing?  " 
said  Stalky,  in  a  few  minutes.  "  Looks  familiar." 

Said  Beetle,  after  a  glance :  "  It's  King's  Latin 
prose  exam,  paper.  In — In  Verrem:  actio  prima. 
What  a  lark!  " 

"  Think  o'  the  pure-souled,  high-minded  boys  who'd 
give  their  eyes  for  a  squint  at  it!  "  said  McTurk. 

"2sTo,  Willie  dear,"  said  Stalky;  "that  would  be 
wrong  and  painful  to  our  kind  teachers.  You  wouldn't 
crib,  Willie,  would  you?  " 

"  Can't  read  the  beastly  stuff,  anyhow,"  was  the 
reply.  "  Besides,  we're  leavin'  at  the  end  o'  the  term, 
BO  it  makes  no  difference  to  us." 

"  'Member  what  the  Considerate  Bloomer  did  to 

Spraggon's  account  of  the  Puffin'ton  Hounds?     We 

must  sugar  Mr.  King's  milk  for  him,"  said  Stalky,  all 

lighted  from  within  by  a  devilish  joy.       "  Let's  se« 

[262] 


THE    LAST    TERM. 

what  Beetle  can  do  with  those  forceps  he's  so  proud 
of." 

"  Don't  see  how  you  can  make  Latin  prose  much 
more  cock-eye  than  it  is,  but  we'll  try,"  said  Beetle, 
transposing  an  aliud  and  Asia?  from  two  sentences. 
"  Let's  see !  We'll  put  that  full-stop  a  little  f urthei 
on,  and  begin  the  sentence  with  the  next  capital 
Hurrah !  Here's  three  lines  that  can  move  up  all  in  x 
lump." 

" '  One  of  those  scientific  rests  for  which  this  emi 
nent  huntsman  is  so  justly  celebrated.'  "  Stalky  knew 
the  Puffmgton  run  by  heart. 

"  Hold  on !  Here's  a  vol — voluntate  quidnam  all 
by  itself,"  said  McTurk. 

"  I'll  attend  to  her  in  a  shake.  Quidnam  goes  after 
Dolabella." 

"  Good  old  Dolabella,"  murmured  Stalky.  "  Don't 
break  him.  Vile  prose  Cicero  wrote,  didn't  he?  He 
ought  to  be  grateful  for 

"  Hullo !  "  said  McTurk,  over  another  forme. 
"  What  price  a  giddy  ode?  Qui — quis — oh,  it's  Quis 
multa  gracilis,  o'  course." 

"  Bring  it  along.  We've  sugared  the  milk  here," 
said  Stalky,  after  a  few  minutes'  zealous  toil.  "  Never 
thrash  your  hounds  unnecessarily." 

"  Quis  munditiis?     I  swear  that's  not  bad,"  began 
Beetle,  plying  the  tweezers.     "  Don't  that  interroga- 
tion look  pretty?     Heu  quoties  fidem!     That  sounds 
18  [263] 


STALKY   &    CO. 

as  if  the  chap  were  anxious  an'  excited.  Cui  flavam 
religas  in  rosa — Whose  flavor  is  relegated  to  a  rose. 
Mutatosque  Deos  flebit  in  antro." 

"  Mute  gods  weepin'  in  a  cave,"  suggested  Stalky. 
"  'Pon  my  Sam,  Horace  needs  as  much  lookin'  after  as 
— Tulke." 

They  edited  him  faithfully  till  it  was  too  dark  to  see. 

"'Aha!  Elucescebat,  quoth  our  friend.'  Ulpian 
serves  my  need,  does  it?  If  King  can  make  anything 
out  of  that,  I'm  a  blue-eyed  squatteroo,"  said  Beetle, 
as  they  slid  out  of  the  loft  window  into  a  back  alley 
of  old  acquaintance  and  started  on  a  three-mile  trot  to 
the  College.  But  the  revision  of  the  classics  had  de- 
tained them  too  long.  They  halted,  blown  and  breath- 
less, in  the  furze  at  the  back  of  the  gasometer,  the 
College  lights  twinkling  below,  ten  minutes  at  least 
late  for  tea  and  lock-up. 

"  It's  no  good,"  puffed  McTurk.  "  Bet  a  bob  Foxy 
is  waiting  for  defaulters  under  the  lamp  by  the  Fives 
Court.  It's  a  nuisance,  too,  because  the  Head  gave  us 
long  leave,  and  one  doesn't  like  to  break  it." 

" '  Let  me  now  from  the  bonded  ware'ouse  of  my 
knowledge,'  "  began  Stalky. 

"  Oh,  rot!  Don't  Jorrock.  Can  we  make  a  run 
for  it?  "  snapped  McTurk. 

" l  Bishops'  boots  Mr.  Eadcliffe  also  condemned,  an' 
spoke  'ighly  in  favor  of  tops  cleaned  with  champagnt 
[264] 


THE   LAST   TEEM. 

an'  abricot  jam.'  Where's  that  thing  Cokey  was 
twiddlin'  this  afternoon? " 

They  heard  him  groping  in  the  wet,  and  presently 
beheld  a  great  miracle.  The  lights  of  the  Coastguard 
cottages  near  the  sea  went  out;  the  brilliantly  illumi- 
nated windows  of  the  Golf -club  disappeared,  and  were 
followed  by  the  frontages  of  the  two  hotels.  Scattered 
villas  dulled,  twinkled,  and  vanished.  Last  of  all,  the 
College  lights  <lied  also.  They  were  left  in  the  pitchy 
darkness  of  a  windy  winter's  night. 

"  '  Blister  my  kidneys.  It  is  a  frost.  The  dahlias 
are  dead!'  "  said  Stalky.  "  Bunk!  " 

They  squattered  through  the  dripping  gorse  as  the 
College  hummed  like  an  angry  hive  and  the  dining- 
rooms  chorused,  "  Gas !  gas !  gas !  "  till  they  came  to  the 
edge  of  the  sunk  path  that  divided  them  from  their 
study.  Dropping  that  ha-ha  like  bullets,  and  rebound- 
ing like  boys,  they  dashed  to  their  study,  in  less  than 
two  minutes  had  changed  into  dry  trousers  and  coat, 
and,  ostentatiously  slippered,  joined  the  mob  in  the 
dining-hall,  which  resembled  the  storm-centre  of  a 
South  American  revolution. 

"  '  Hellish  dark  and  smells  of  cheese.' '  Stalky  el- 
bowed his  way  into  the  press,  howling  lustily  for  gas. 
"  Cokey  must  have  gone  for  a  walk.  Foxy'll  have  to 
find  him." 

Prout,  as  the  nearest  house-master,  was  trying  to  re- 
store order,  for  rude  boys  were  flicking  butter-pats 
[265] 


STALKY   &    CO. 

across  chaos,  and  McTurk  had  turned  on  the  fags'  tea- 
urn,  so  that  many  were  parboiled  and  wept  with  an 
unfeigned  dolor.  The  Fourth  and  Upper  Third  broke 
into  the  school  song,  the  "  Vive  la  Compagnie"  to  the 
accompaniment  of  drumming  knife-handles;  and  the 
junior  forms  shrilled  bat-like  shrieks  and  raided  one 
another's  victuals.  Two  hundred  and  fifty  boys  in 
high  condition,  seeking  for  more  light,  are  truly  earn- 
est inquirers. 

When  a  most  vile  smell  of  gas  told  them  that  sup- 
plies had  been  renewed,  Stalky,  waistcoat  unbuttoned, 
sat  gorgedly  over  what  might  have  been  his  fourth  cup 
of  tea.  "And  that's  all  right,"  he  said.  "Hullo! 
'Ere's  Pomponius  Ego!  " 

It  was  Carson,  the  head  of  the  school,  a  simple, 
straight-minded  soul,  and  a  pillar  of  the  Eirst  Fifteen, 
who  crossed  over  from  the  prefects'  table  and  in  a 
husky,  official  voice  invited  the  three  to  attend  in  his 
study  in  half  an  hour. 

"  Prefects'  meetin' !  Prefects'  meetin' !  "  hissed  the 
tables,  and  they  imitated  barbarically  the  actions  and 
effects  of  the  ground-ash. 

"  How  are  we  goin'  to  jest  with  'em?  "  said  Stalky, 
turning  half -face  to  Beetle.  "It's  your  play  this 
time!" 

"  Look  here,"  was  the  answer,  "  all  I  want  you  to  do 
is  not  to  laugh.  I'm  goin'  to  take  charge  o'  young 
Tulke's  immorality — a  la  King,  and  it's  goin'  to  be 
[266] 


THE   LAST    TEEM. 

serious.  If  you  can't  help  laughin'  don't  look  at  me, 
or  I'll  go  pop." 

"  I  see.     All  right,"  said  Stalky. 

McTurk's  lank  frame  stiffened  in  every  muscle  and 
his  eyelids  dropped  half  over  his  eyes.  That  last  was 
a  war-signal. 

The  eight  or  nine  seniors,  their  faces  very  set  and 
sober,  were  ranged  in  chairs  round  Carson's  severely 
Philistine  study.  Tulke  was  not  popular  among 
them,  and  a  few  who  had  had  experience  of  Stalky  and 
Company  doubted  that  he  might,  perhaps,  have  made 
an  ass  of  himself.  But  the  dignity  of  the  Sixth  was 
to  be  upheld.  So  Carson  began  hurriedly: 

"  Look  here,  you  chaps,  I've — we've  sent  for  you  to 
tell  you  you're  a  good  deal  too  cheeky  to  the  Sixth — 
have  been  for  some  time — and — and  we've  stood  about 
as  much  as  we're  goin'  to,  and  it  seems  you've  been 
cursin'  and  swearin'  at  Tulke  on  the  Bidef ord  road  this 
afternoon,  and  we're  goin'  to  show  you  you  can't  do  it. 
That's  all." 

"  Well,  that's  awfully  good  of  you,"  said  Stalky, 
"  but  we  happen  to  have  a  few  rights  of  our  own,  too. 
You  can't,  just  because  you  happen  to  be  made  pre- 
fects, haul  up  seniors  and  jaw  'em  on  spec.,  like  a 
house-master.  We  aren't  fags,  Carson.  This  kind  of 
thing  may  do  for  Davies  Tertius,  but  it  won't  do  for 
us." 

"  It's  only  old  Front's  lunacy  that  we  weren't  pre- 
[267] 


STALKY   &    CO. 

f ects  long  ago.  You  know  that/'  said  McTurk.  "  You 
haven't  any  tact." 

"  Hold  on,"  said  Beetle.  "  A  prefects'  meetin'  has 
to  be  reported  to  the  Head.  I  want  to  know  if  the 
Head  backs  Tulke  in  this  business?  " 

"  Well — well,  it  isn't  exactly  a  prefects'  meet- 
ing," said  Carson.  "  We  only  called  you  in  to  warn 

you." 

"But  all  the  prefects  are  here,"  Beetle  insisted. 
"  Where's  the  difference?  " 

"  My  Gum !  "  said  Stalky.  "  Do  you  mean  to  say 
you've  just  called  us  in  for  a  jaw — after  comin'  to  us 
before  the  whole  school  at  tea  an'  givin'  'em  the  im- 
pression it  was  a  prefects'  meeting?  'Pon  my  Sam, 
Carson,  you'll  get  into  trouble,  you  will." 

"  Hole-an'-corner  business — hole-an'-corner  busi- 
ness," said  McTurk,  wagging  his  head.  "  Beastly 
suspicious." 

The  Sixth  looked  at  each  other  uneasily.  Tulke 
had  called  three  prefects'  meetings  in  two  terms,  till 
the  Head  had  informed  the  Sixth  that  they  were  ex- 
pected to  maintain  discipline  without  the  recurrent 
menace  of  his  authority.  ~Now,  it  seemed  that  they 
had  made  a  blunder  at  the  outset,  but  any  right- 
minded  boy  would  have  sunk  the  legality  and  been 
properly  impressed  by  the  Court.  Beetle's  protest 
was  distinct  "  cheek." 

"  Well,  you  chaps  deserve  a  lickin',"  cried  one 
[268] 


THE   LAST   TEEM. 

Naughten  incautiously.  Then  was  Beetle  filled  with 
a  noble  inspiration. 

"  For  interferin'  with  Tulke's  amours,  eh?  "  Tulke 
turned  a  rich  sloe  color.  "  Oh,  no,  you  don't !  "  Beetle 
went  on.  "  You've  had  your  innings.  We've  been 
sent  up  for  cursing  and  swearing  at  you,  and  we're 
goin'  to  be  let  off  with  a  warning!  Are  we?  Now 
then,  you're  going  to  catch  it." 

"I— I— I—"  Tulke  began.  "Don't  let  that 
young  devil  start  jawing." 

"  If  you've  anything  to  say  you  must  say  it  de- 
cently," said  Carson. 

"  Decently  ?  I  will.  Now  look  here.  When  we 
went  into  Bideford  we  met  this  ornament  of  the  Sixth 
— is  that  decent  enough? — hanging  about  on  the  road 
with  a  nasty  look  in  his  eye.  We  didn't  know  then 
why  he  was  so  anxious  to  stop  us,  but  at  five  minutes  to 
four,  when  we  were  in  Yeo's  shop,  we  saw  Tulke  in 
broad  daylight,  with  his  house-cap  on,  kissin'  an.'  hug- 
gin'  a  woman  on  the  pavement.  Is  that  decent  enough 
for  you? " 

"  I  didn't— I  wasn't." 

"  We  saw  you!  "  said  Beetle.  "  And  now — I'll  be 
decent,  Carson — you  sneak  back  with  her  kisses  "  (not 
for  nothing  had  Beetle  perused  the  later  poets)  "  hot 
on  your  lips  and  call  prefects'  meetings,  which  aren't 
prefects'  meetings,  to  uphold  the  honor  of  the  Sixth." 
A  new  and  heaven-cleft  path  opened  before  him  that 
[269] 


STALKY   &   CO. 

instant.  "  And  how  do  we  know,"  he  shouted — "  how 
do  we  know  how  many  of  the  Sixth  are  mixed  up  in 
this  abominable  affair? " 

"  Yes,  that's  what  we  want  to  know,"  said  McTurk, 
with  simple  dignity. 

"  We  meant  to  come  to  you  about  it  quietly,  Carson, 
but  you  would  have  the  meeting,"  said  Stalky  sympa- 
thetically. 

The  Sixth  were  too  taken  aback  to  reply.  So, 
carefully  modelling  his  rhetoric  on  King,  Beetle  fol- 
lowed up  the  attack,  surpassing  and  surprising  him- 
self. 

"  It — it  isn't  so  much  the  cynical  immorality  of  the 
biznai,  as  the  blatant  indecency  of  it,  that's  so  awful. 
As  far  as  we  can  see,  it's  impossible  for  us  to  go  into 
Bidef ord  without  runnin'  up  against  some  prefect's  un^ 
wholesome  amours.  There's  nothing  to  snigger  over, 
Naughten.  I  don't  pretend  to  know  much  about  these 
things — but  it  seems  to  me  a  chap  must  be  pretty  far 
dead  in  sin  "  (that  was  a  quotation  from  the  school 
chaplain)  "  when  he  takes  to  embracing  his  para- 
mours "  (that  was  Hakluyt)  "  before  all  the  city  "  (a 
reminiscence  of  Milton).  "  He  might  at  least  have 
the  decency — you're  authorities  on  decency,  I  believe 
— to  wait  till  dark.  But  he  didn't.  You  didn't!  Oh, 
Tulke.  You — you  incontinent  little  animal!  " 

"  Here,  shut  up  a  minute.  What's  all  this  about, 
Tulke? "  said  Carson. 

[270] 


THE   LAST    TEEM. 

"  I — look  here.  I'm  awfully  sorry.  I  never 
thought  Beetle  would  take  this  line." 

"  Because — you've — no  decency — you — thought — 
I  hadn't,"  cried  Beetle  all  in  one  breath. 

"  Tried  to  cover  it  all  up  with  a  conspiracy,  did 
you? "  said  Stalky. 

"  Direct  insult  to  all  three  of  us,"  said  McTurk. 
"  A  most  filthy  mind  you  have,  Tulke." 

"  I'll  shove  you  fellows  outside  the  door  if  you  go 
on  like  this,"  said  Carson  angrily. 

"  That  proves  it's  a  conspiracy,"  said  Stalky,  with 
the  air  of  a  virgin  martyr. 

"  I — I  was  goin'  along  the  street — I  swear  I  was," 
cried  Tulke,  "  and — and  I'm  awfully  sorry  about  it — 
a  woman  came  up  and  kissed  me.  I  swear  I  didn't 
kiss  her." 

There  was  a  pause,  filled  by  Stalky's  long,  liquid 
whistle  of  contempt,  amazement,  and  derision. 

"  On  my  honor,"  gulped  the  persecuted  one.  "  Oh, 
do  stop  him  jawing." 

"  Very  good,"  McTurk  interjected.  "  We  are  com- 
pelled, of  course,  to  accept  your  statement." 

"  Confound  it !  "  roared  Naughten.  "  You  aren't 
head-prefect  here,  McTurk." 

"  Oh,  well,"  returned  the  Irishman,  "  you  know 

Tulke  better  than  we  do.     I  am  only  speaking  for 

ourselves.     We  accept  Tulke's  word.     But  all  I  can 

say  is  that  if  I'd  been  collared  in  a  similarly  disgustin' 

[271] 


STALKY   &    CO. 

situation,  and  had  offered  the  same  explanation  Tulke 
has,  I — I  wonder  what  you'd  have  said.  However,  it 
seems  on  Tulke's  word  of  honor " 

"And  Tulkus — beg  pardon — kiss,  of  course — 
Tulkiss  is  an  honorable  man,"  put  in  Stalky. 

" that  the  Sixth  can't  protect  'emselves  from 

bein'  kissed  when  they  go  for  a  walk!  "  cried  Beetle, 
taking  up  the  running  with  a  rush.  "  Sweet  business, 
isn't  it?  Cheerful  thing  to  tell  the  fags,  ain't  it?  We 
aren't  prefects,  of  course,  but  we  aren't  kissed  very 
much.  Don't  think  that  sort  of  thing  ever  enters  our 
heads;  does  it,  Stalky?  " 

"  Oh,  no !  "  said  Stalky,  turning  aside  to  hide  his 
emotions.  McTurk's  face  merely  expressed  lofty  con- 
tempt and  a  little  weariness. 

"  Well,  you  seem  to  know  a  lot  about  it,"  interposed 
a  prefect. 

"  Can't  help  it — when  you  chaps  shove  it  under  our 
noses."  Beetle  dropped  into  a  drawling  parody  of 
King's  most  biting  colloquial  style — the  gentle  rain 
after  the  thunder-storm.  "  Well,  it's  all  very  suffi- 
ciently vile  and  disgraceful,  isn't  it?  I  don't  know 
who  comes  out  of  it  worst:  Tulke,  who  happens  to  have 
been  caught;  or  the  other  fellows  who  haven't.  And 
we — "  here  he  wheeled  fiercely  on  the  other  two — 
*'  we've  got  to  stand  up  and  be  jawed  by  them  because 
we've  disturbed  their  intrigues." 

"Hang  it!  I  only  wanted  to  give  you  a  word  of 
[272] 


THE   LAST   TERM. 

warning,"  said  Carson,  thereby  handing  himself  bound 
to  the  enemy. 

"  Warn?  You?  "  This  with  the  air  of  one  who 
finds  loathsome  gifts  in  his  locker.  "  Carson,  would 
you  be  good  enough  to  tell  us  what  conceivable  thing 
there  is  that  you  are  entitled  to  warn  us  about  after  this 
exposure?  Warn?  Oh,  it's  a  little  too  much !  Let's 
go  somewhere  where  it's  clean." 

The  door  banged  behind  their  outraged  innocence. 

"  Oh,  Beetle !  Beetle !  Beetle !  Golden  Beetle !  " 
sobbed  Stalky,  hurling  himself  on  Beetle's  panting 
bosom  as  soon  as  they  reached  the  study.  "  However 
did  you  do  it?  " 

"  Dear-r  man !  "  said  McTurk,  embracing  Beetle's 
head  with  both  arms,  while  he  swayed  it  to  and  fro  on 
the  neck,  in  time  to  this  ancient  burden — 

"  Pretty  lips — sweeter  than — cherry  or  plum, 
Always  look — jolly  and — never  look  glum  ; 
Seem  to  say — Come  away.     Kissy ! — come,  come  ! 
Yummy -yum  !  Yummy-yum  !  Yummy-yum-yum  ! " 

"Look  out.  You'll  smash  my  gig-lamps,"  puffed 
Beetle,  emerging.  "Wasn't  it  glorious?  Didn't  I 
*  Eric  '  'em  splendidly?  Did  you  spot  my  cribs  from 
King?  Oh,  blow! "  His  countenance  clouded. 
"  There's  one  adjective  I  didn't  use — obscene.  Don't 
know  how  I  forgot  that,  It's  one  of  King's  pet  ones, 
too." 

[273;] 


STALKY   &    CO. 

"Never  mind.  They'll  be  sendin'  ambassadors 
round  in  half  a  shake  to  beg  us  not  to  tell  the  school. 
It's  a  deuced  serious  business  for  them,"  said  McTurk. 
"  Poor  Sixth— poor  old  Sixth!  " 

"  Immoral  young  rips,"  Stalky  snorted.  "  What  an 
example  to  pure-souled  boys  like  you  and  me!  " 

And  the  Sixth  in  Carson's  study  sat  aghast,  glower- 
ing at  Tulke,  who  was  on  the  edge  of  tears. 

"Well,"  said  the  head-prefect  acidly.  "You've 
made  a  pretty  average  ghastly  mess  of  it,  Tulke." 

"  Why — why  didn't  you  lick  that  young  devil 
Beetle  before  he  began  jawing?  "  Tulke  wailed. 

"  I  knew  there'd  be  a  row,"  said  a  prefect  of  Front's 
house.  "  But  you  would  insist  on  the  meeting, 
Tulke." 

"  Yes,  and  a  fat  lot  of  good  it's  done  us,"  said 
Naughten.  "  They  come  in  here  and  jaw  our  heads 
off  when  we  ought  to  be  jawin'  them.  Beetle  talks  to 
us  as  if  we  were  a  lot  of  blackguards  and — and  all  that. 
And  when  they've  hung  us  up  to  dry,  they  go  out  and 
slam  the  door  like  a  house-master.  All  your  fault, 
Tulke." 

"  But  I  didn't  kiss  her." 

"  You  ass!  If  you'd  said  you  had  and  stuck  to  it, 
it  would  have  been  ten  times  better  than  what  you 
did,"  Naughten  retorted.  "  Now  they'll  tell  the  whole 
school — and  Beetle'll  make  up  a  lot  of  beastly  rhymes 
and  nick-names." 

[27*] 


THE   LAST   TEEM. 

"But,  hang  it,  she  kissed  me!"  Outside  of  his 
work,  Tulke's  mind  moved  slowly. 

"  I'm  not  thinking  of  you.  I'm  thinking  of  us. 
I'll  go  up  to  their  study  and  see  if  I  can  make  'em  keep 
quiet!  " 

"  Tulke's  awf'ly  cut  up  about  this  business," 
Xaughten  began,  ingratiatingly,  when  he  found 
Beetle. 

"  Who's  kissed  him  this  time? " 

— and  I've  come  to  ask  you  chaps,  and  especially 
you,  Beetle,  not  to  let  the  thing  be  known  all  over  the 
school.  Of  course,  fellows  as  senior  as  you  are  can 
easily  see  why." 

"  Um!  "  said  Beetle,  with  the  cold  reluctance  of  one 
who  foresees  an  unpleasant  public  duty.  "  I  suppose 
I  must  go  and  talk  to  the  Sixth  again." 

"  Xot  the  least  need,  my  dear  chap,  I  assure  you," 
said  Naughten  hastily.  "  I'll  take  any  message  you 
care  to  send." 

But  the  chance  of  supplying  the  missing  adjective 
was  too  tempting.  So  ISTaughten  returned  to  that  still 
undissolved  meeting,  Beetle,  white,  icy,  and  aloof,  at 
his  heels. 

"  There  seems,"  he  began,  with  laboriously  crisp 
articulation,  "  there  seems  to  be  a  certain  amount  of 
uneasiness  among  you  as  to  the  steps  we  may  think 
fit  to  take  in  regard  to  this  last  revelation  of  the — ah — 
obscene.  If  it  is  any  consolation  to  you  to  know  that 
[275] 


STALKY   &    CO. 

we  have  decided — for  the  honor  of  the  school,  you 
understand — to  keep  our  mouths  shut  as  to  these — ah 
— obscenities,  you — ah — have  it." 

He  wheeled,  his  head  among  the  stars,  and  strode 
statelily  back  to  his  study,  where  Stalky  and  McTurk 
lay  side  by  side  upon  the  table  wiping  their  tearful 
eyes — too  weak  to  move. 


The  Latin  prose  paper  was  a  success  beyond  their 
wildest  dreams.  Stalky  and  McTurk  were,  of  course, 
out  of  all  examinations  (they  did  extra-tuition  with  the 
Head),  but  Beetle  attended  with  zeal. 

"  This,  I  presume,  is  a  par-ergon  on  your  part,"  said 
King,  as  he  dealt  out  the  papers.  "  One  final  exhibi- 
tion ere  you  are  translated  to  loftier  spheres?  A  last 
attack  on  the  classics?  It  seems  to  confound  you 
already." 

Beetle  studied  the  print  with  knit  brows.  "  I  can't 
make  head  or  tail  of  it,"  he  murmured.  "  What  does 
it  mean  ? " 

"  ^To,  no !  "  said  King,  with  scholastic  coquetry. 
"  We  depend  upon  you  to  give  us  the  meaning.  This 
is  an  examination,  Beetle  mine,  not  a  guessing-compe- 
tition.  You  will  find  your  associates  have  no  difficulty 
in " 

Tulke  left  his  place  and  laid  the  paper  on  the  desk. 
King  looked,  read,  and  turned  a  ghastly  green. 
[276] 


THE   LAST   TERM. 

"  Stalky's  missing  a  heap,"  thought  Beetle.  "  Won- 
der how  King'll  get  out  of  it?  " 

"  There  seems,"  King  began  with  a  gulp,  "  a  certain 
modicum  of  truth  in  our  Beetle's  remark.  I  am — er 
— inclined  to  believe  that  the  worthy  Randall  must 
have  dropped  this  in  forme — if  you  know  what  that 
means.  Beetle,  you  purport  to  be  an  editor.  Perhaps 
you  can  enlighten  the  form  as  to  formes." 

"  What,  sir?  Whose  form?  I  don't  see  that  there's 
any  verb  in  this  sentence  at  all,  an' — an' — the  Ode  is 
all  different,  somehow." 

"  I  was  about  to  say,  before  you  volunteered  your 
criticism,  that  an  accident  must  have  befallen  the 
paper  in  type,  and  that  the  printer  reset  it  by  the  light 
of  nature.  No — "  he  held  the  thing  at  arm's  length 
— "  our  Randall  is  not  an  authority  on  Cicero  or 
Horace." 

"  Rather  mean  to  shove  it  off  on  Randall,"  whis- 
pered Beetle  to  his  neighbor.  "  King  must  ha'  been 
as  screwed  as  an  owl  when  he  wrote  it  out." 

"  But  we  can  amend  the  error  by  dictating  it." 

"  No,  sir."  The  answer  came  pat  from  a  dozen 
throats  at  once.  "  That  cuts  the  time  for  the  exam. 
Only  two  hours  allowed,  sir.  'Tisn't  fair.  It's  a 
printed-paper  exam.  How're  we  goin'  to  be  marked 
for  it?  It's  all  Randall's  fault.  It  isn't  our  fault,  any- 
how. An  exam.'s  an  exam.,"  etc.,  etc. 

Naturally  Mr.  King  considered  this  was  an  attempt 
£277] 


STALKY   &   CO. 

to  undermine  his  authority,  and,  instead  of  beginning 
dictation  at  once,  delivered  a  lecture  on  the  spirit  in 
which  examinations  should  be  approached.  As  the 
storm  subsided,  Beetle  fanned  it  afresh. 

"Eh?  "What?  What  was  that  you  were  saying  to 
MacLagan? " 

"  I  only  said  I  thought  the  papers  ought  to  have 
been  looked  at  before  they  were  given  out,  sir." 

"  Hear,  hear !  "  from  a  back  bench. 

Mr.  King  wished  to  know  whether  Beetle  took  it 
upon  himself  personally  to  conduct  the  traditions  of 
the  school.  His  zeal  for  knowledge  ate  up  another 
fifteen  minutes,  during  which  the  prefects  showed  un- 
mistakable signs  of  boredom. 

"  Oh,  it  was  a  giddy  time,"  said  Beetle,  afterwards, 
in  dismantled  Number  Five.  "  He  gibbered  a  bit, 
and  I  kept  him  on  the  gibber,  and  then  he  dictated 
about  a  half  of  Dolabella  &  Co." 

"Good  old  Dolabella!  Friend  of  mine.  Yes?" 
said  Stalky,  pensively. 

"  Then  we  had  to  ask  him  how  every  other  word  was 
spelt,  of  course,  and  he  gibbered  a  lot  more.  He  cursed 
me  and  MacLagan  (Mac  played  up  like  a  trump)  and 
Randall,  and  the  '  materialized  ignorance  of  the  un. 
scholarly  middle  classes,'  t  lust  for  mere  marks/  and 
all  the  rest.  It  was  what  you  might  call  a  final  exhi- 
bition— a  last  attack — a  giddy  par-ergon." 

"  But  o'  course  he  was  blind  squiffy  when  he  wrote 
[278] 


THE   LAST    TERM. 

the  paper.  I  hope  you  explained  that?"  said 
Stalky. 

"  Oh,  yes.  I  told  Tulke  so.  I  said  an  immoral  pre- 
fect an'  a  drunken  house-master  were  legitimate  infer- 
ences. Tulke  nearly  blubbed.  He's  awfully  shy  of 
us  since  Mary's  time." 

Tulke  preserved  that  modesty  till  the  last  moment 
— till  the  journey-money  had  been  paid,  and  the  boys 
were  filling  the  brakes  that  took  them  to  the  station. 
Then  the  three  tenderly  constrained  him  to  wait 
a  while. 

"  You  see,  Tulke,  you  may  be  a  prefect,"  said 
Stalky,  "  but  I've  left  the  Coll.  Do  you  see,  Tulke, 
dear?" 

"  Yes,  I  see.     Don't  bear  malice,  Stalky." 

"  Stalky?  Curse  your  impudence,  you  young  cub," 
shouted  Stalky,  magnificent  in  top-hat,  stiff  collar, 
spats,  and  high-waisted,  snuff-colored  ulster.  "  I  want 
you  to  understand  that  I'm  Mister  Corkran,  an'  you're 
a  dirty  little  schoolboy." 

"  Besides  bein'  frabjously  immoral,"  said  McTurk. 
"  Wonder  you  aren't  ashamed  to  foist  your  company  on 
pure-minded  boys  like  us." 

"  Come  on,  Tulke,"  cried  ISTaughten,  from  the  pre- 
fects' brake. 

"  Yes,  we're  comin'.  Shove  up  and  make  room,  you 
Collegers.  You've  all  got  to  be  back  next  term,  with 
your '  Yes,  sir,'  and '  Oh,  sir,'  an' '  No,  sir/  an' '  Please, 
[279] 


STALKY   &    CO. 

sir  * ;  but  before  we  say  good-by  we're  going  to  tell  you 
a  little  story.  Go  on,  Dickie  "  (this  to  the  driver) ; 
"  we're  quite  ready.  Kick  that  hat-box  under  the 
seat,  an'  don't  crowd  your  Uncle  Stalky." 

"  As  nice  a  lot  of  high-minded  youngsters  as  you'd 
wish  to  see,"  said  McTurk,  gazing  round  with  bland 
patronage.  "  A  trifle  immoral,  but  then — boys  will 
be  boys.  It's  no  good  tryin'  to  look  stuffy,  Carson. 
Mister  Corkran  will  now  oblige  with  the  story  of 
Tulkean'  Mary  Yeo!  " 


[280] 


SLAVES   OF   THE   LAMP. 

Part  II. 

THAT  very  Infant  who  told  the  story  of  the  cap. 
hire  of  Boh  ISTa  Ghee  *  to  Eustace  Cleaver,  novelist, 
inherited  an  estatef ul  baronetcy,  with  vast  revenues, 
resigned  the  service,  and  became  a  landholder,  while 
his  mother  stood  guard  over  him  to  see  that  he  mar- 
ried the  right  girl.  But,  new  to  his  position,  he 
presented  the  local  volunteers  with  a  full-sized  maga- 
zine-rifle range,  two  miles  long,  across  the  heart  of 
his  estate,  and  the  surrounding  families,  who  lived 
in  savage  seclusion  among  woods  full  of  pheasants, 
regarded  him  as  an  erring  maniac.  The  noise  of 
the  firing  disturbed  their  poultry,  and  Infant  was 
cast  out  from  the  society  of  J.  P.  's  and  decent  men 
till  such  time  as  a  daughter  of  the  county  might  lure 
him  back  to  right  thinking.  He  took  his  revenge 
by  filling  the  house  with  choice  selections  of  old 
schoolmates  home  on  leave — affable  detrimentals,  at 
whom  the  bicycle-riding  maidens  of  the  surrounding 
families  were  allowed  to  look  from  afar.  I  knew 

*  A  Conference  of  the  Powers :   •'  Many  Inventions." 
[2811 


STALKY   &    CO. 

when  a  troop-ship  was  in  port  by  the  Infant's  invi- 
tations. Sometimes  he  would  produce  old  friends 
of  equal  seniority;  at  others,  young  and  blushing 
giants  whom  I  had  left  small  fags  far  down  in  the 
Lower  Second;  and  to  these  Infant  and  the  elders 
expounded  the  whole  duty  of  man  in  the  Army. 

"I've  had  to  cut  the  service,"  said  the  Infant; 
"  but  that's  no  reason  why  my  vast  stores  of  experi- 
ence should  be  lost  to  posterity."  He  was  just 
thirty,  and  in  that  same  summer  an  imperious  wire 
drew  me  to  his  baronial  castle:  "Got  good  haul; 
ex  Tamar.  Come  along." 

It  was  an  unusually  good  haul,  arranged  with  a 
single  eye  to  my  benefit.  There  was  a  baldish, 
broken-down  captain  of  Native  Infantry,  shivering 
with  ague  behind  an  indomitable  red  nose — and  they 
called  him  Captain  Dickson.  There  was  another 
captain,  also  of  Native  Infantry,  with  a  fair  mus- 
tache; his  face  was  like  white  glass,  and  his  hands 
were  fragile,  but  he  answered  joyfully  to  the  cry  of 
Tertius.  There  was  an  enormously  big  and  well- 
kept  man,  who  had  evidently  not  campaigned  for 
years,  clean-shaved,  soft-voiced,  and  cat-like,  but 
still  Abanazar  for  all  that  he  adorned  the  Indian 
Political  Service;  and  there  was  a  lean  Irishman, 
his  face  tanned  blue-black  with  the  suns  of  the  Tele- 
graph Department.  Luckily  the  baize  doors  of  the 
bachelors'  wing  fitted  tight,  for  we  dressed  promis- 
[282J 


SLAVES    OF   THE   LAMP. 

cuously  in  the  corridor  or  in  each  other's  rooms, 
talking,  calling,  shouting,  and  anon  waltzing  by 
pairs  to  songs  of  Dick  Four's  own  devising. 

There  were  sixty  years  of  mixed  work  to  be  sifted 
out  between  us,  and  since  we  had  met  one  another 
from  time  to  time  in  the  quick  scene-shifting  of 
India — a  dinner,  camp,  or  a  race-meeting  here;  a 
dak-bungalow  or  railway  station  up  country  some- 
where else — we  had  never  quite  lost  touch.  Infant 
sat  on  the  banisters,  hungrily  and  enviously  drink- 
ing it  in.  He  enjoyed  his  baronetcy,  but  his  heart 
yearned  for  the  old  days. 

It  was  a  cheerful  babel  of  matters  personal,  pro- 
vincial, and  imperial,  pieces  of  old  call-over  lists, 
and  new  policies,  cut  short  by  the  roar  of  a  Bur- 
mese gong,  and  we  went  down  not  less  than  a  quar- 
ter of  a  mile  of  stairs  to  meet  Infant's  mother,  who 
had  known  us  all  in  our  school-days  and  greeted  us 
as  if  those  had  ended  a  week  ago.  But  it  was  fifteen 
years  since,  with  tears  of  laughter,  she  had  lent  me 
a  gray  princess-skirt  for  amateur  theatricals. 

That  was  a  dinner  from  the  "  Arabian  Mghts, " 
served  in  an  eighty-foot  hall  full  of  ancestors  and 
pots  of  flowering  roses,  and,  what  was  more  im- 
pressive, heated  by  steam.  When  it  was  ended  and 
the  little  mother  had  gone  away — ("  You  boys  want 
to  talk,  so  I  shall  say  good-night  now  ") — we  gath- 
ered about  an  apple-wood  fire,  in  a  gigantic  polished 
[283] 


STALKY   &   CO. 

steel  grate,  under  a  mantelpiece  ten  feet  high,  and 
the  Infant  compassed  us  about  with  curious  liqueurs 
and  that  kind  of  cigarette  which  serves  best  to  in- 
troduce your  own  pipe. 

"Oh,  bliss!"  grunted  Dick  Four  from,  a  sofa, 
where  he  had  been  packed  with  a  rug  over  him. 
"  First  time  I've  been  warm  since  I  came  home." 

We  were  all  nearly  on  top  of  the  fire,  except  Infant, 
who  had  been  long  enough  at  Home  to  take  exer- 
cise when  he  felt  chilled.  This  is  a  grisly  diversion, 
but  much  affected  by  the  English  of  the  Island. 

"If  you  say  a  word  about  cold  tubs  and  brisk 
walks,"  drawled  McTurk,  "I'll  kill  you,  Infant. 
I've  got  a  liver,  too.  'Member  when  we  used  to 
think  it  a  treat  to  turn  out  of  our  beds  on  a  Sunday 
morning — thermometer  fifty-seven  degrees  if  it  was 
summer  —  and  bathe  off  the  Pebbleridge  ?  Ugh!" 

"  'Thing  I  don't  understand,"  saidTertius,  "was 
the  way  we  chaps  used  to  go  down  into  the  lava- 
tories, boil  ourselves  pink,  and  then  come  up  with 
all  our  pores  open  into  a  young  snow-storm  or  a 
black  frost.  Yet  none  of  our  chaps  died,  that  I  can 
remember." 

"  Talkin'  of  baths,"  said  McTurk,  with  a  chuckle, 
"  'member  our  bath  in  Number  Five,  Beetle,  the 
night  Rabbits-Eggs  rocked  King?  What  wouldn't 
I  give  to  see  old  Stalky  now !  He  is  the  only  one 
of  the  two  Studies  not  here. ' ' 
[284] 


SLAVES    OF   THE   LAMP. 

"Stalky  is  the  great  man  of  his  Century,"  said 
Dick  Four. 

"  How  d'you  know  ?  "  I  asked. 

"How  do  I  know?  "  said  Dick  Four,  scornfully. 
"  If  you've  ever  been  in  a  tight  place  with  Stalky 
you  wouldn't  ask." 

"  I  haven't  seen  him  since  the  camp  at  Pindi  in 
'87,"  I  said.  "He  was  goin'  strong 'then — about 
seven  feet  high  and  four  feet  through. ' ' 

"Adequate  chap.  Infernally  adequate,"  said 
Tertius,  pulling  his  mustache  and  staring  into  the 
fire. 

"  Got  dam'  near  court-martialed  and  broke  in 
Egypt  in  '84,"  the  Infant  volunteered.  "I  went 
out  in  the  same  trooper  with  him — as  raw  as  he 
was.  Only  /showed  it,  and  Stalky  didn't." 

"What  was  the  trouble?"  said  McTurk,  reach- 
ing forward  absently  to  twitch  my  dress-tie  into 
position. 

"  Oh,  nothing.  His  colonel  trusted  him  to  take 
twenty  Tommies  out  to  wash,  or  groom  camels,  or 
something  at  the  back  of  Suakin,  and  Stalky  got 
embroiled  with  Fuzzies  five  miles  in  the  interior. 
He  conducted  a  masterly  retreat  and  wiped  up  eight 
of  'em.  He  knew  jolly  well  he'd  no  right  to  go  out 
so  far,  so  he  took  the  initiative  and  pitched  in  a  let- 
ter to  his  colonel,  who  was  frothing  at  the  mouth, 
complaining  of  the  '  paucity  of  support  accorded  to 
[285] 


STALKY   &   CO. 

him  in  his  operations.'  Gad,  it  might  have  been 
one  fat  brigadier  slangin'  another!  Then  he  w.>~t 
into  the  Staff  Corps." 

"That — is — entirely — Stalky,"  said  Abanazar 
from  his  arm-chair. 

"  You've  come  across  him,  too?  "  I  said. 

"  Oh,  yes,"  he  replied  in  his  softest  tones.  "I 
was  at  the  tail  of  that — that  epic.  Don't  you  chaps 
know?" 

We  did  not — Infant,  McTurk,  and  I ;  and  we 
called  for  information  very  politely. 

"  'T  wasn't  anything,"  said  Tertius.  "We  got 
into  a  mess  up  in  the  Khye-Kheen  Hills  a  couple 
o'  years  ago,  and  Stalky  pulled  us  through.  That's 
all." 

McTurk  gazed  at  Tertius  with  all  an  Irishman's 
contempt  for  the  tongue-tied  Saxon. 

"Heavens!"  he  said.  "And  it's  you  and  your 
likes  govern  Ireland.  Tertius,  aren't  you  ashamed?  " 

"  Well,  I  can't  tell  a  yarn.  I  can  chip  in  when 
the  other  fellow  starts  lukhing.  Ask  him."  He 
pointed  to  Dick  Four,  whose  nose  gleamed  scorn- 
fully over  the  rug. 

"  I  knew  you  wouldn't,"  said  Dick  Four.  "  Give 
me  a  whiskey  and  soda.  I've  been  drinking  lemon- 
squash  and  ammoniated  quinine  while  you  chaps 
were  bathin'  in  champagne,  and  my  head's  singin7 
like  a  top." 

[286] 


SLAVES    OF   THE   LAMP. 

He  wiped  his  ragged  mustache  above  the  drink; 
and,  his  teeth  chattering  in  his  head,  began: 

"You  know  the  Khye-Kheen-Malot  expedition, 
when  we  scared  the  souls  out  of  'era  with  a  field 
force  they  daren't  fight  against  ?  Well,  both  tribes 
• — there  was  a  coalition  against  us — came  in  without 
firing  a  shot ;  and  a  lot  of  hairy  villains,  who  had 
no  more  power  over  their  men  than  I  had,  promised 
and  vowed  all  sorts  of  things.  On  that  very  slender 
evidence,  Pussy  dear — ' 

"  I  was  at  Simla,"  said  Abanazar,  hastily. 

"  Never  mind,  you're  tarred  with  the  same  brush. 
On  the  strength  of  those  tuppenny-ha'penny  treaties, 
your  asses  of  Politicals  reported  the  country  as  paci- 
fied, and  the  Government,  being  a  fool,  as  usual, 
began  road-makin' — dependin'  on  local  supply  for 
labor.  'Member  that,  Pussy?  'Rest  of  our  chaps 
who'd  had  no  look-in  during  the  campaign  didn't 
think  there'd  be  any  more  of  it,  and  were  anxious 
to  get  back  to  India.  But  I'd  been  in  two  of  these 
little  rows  before,  and  I  had  my  suspicions.  I  engi- 
neered myself,  summo  ingenio,  into  command  of  a 
road-patrol — no  shovellin',  only  marching  up  and 
down  genteelly  with  a  guard.  They'd  withdrawn 
all  the  troops  they  could,  but  I  nucleused  about  forty 
Pathans,  recruits  chiefly,  of  my  regiment,  and  sat 
tight  at  the  base-camp  while  the  road-parties  went 
to  work,  as  per  Political  survey." 
[287] 


STALKY   &    CO. 

"  Had  some  rippin'  sing-songs  in  camp,  too,"  said 
Tertius. 

"  My  pup  " — thus  did  Dick  Four  refer  to  his  sub- 
altern— "  was  a  pious  little  beast.  He  didn't  like 
the  sing-songs,  and  so  he  went  down  with  pneu- 
monia. I  rootled  round  the  camp,  and  found  Ter- 
tius gassing  about  as  a  D.A.Q.M.G.,  which,  God 
knows,  he  isn't  cut  out  for.  There  were  six  or  eight 
of  the  old  Coll.  at  base-camp  (we're  always  in  force 
for  a  frontier  row),  but  I'd  heard  of  Tertius  as  a 
steady  old  hack,  and  I  told  him  he  had  to  shake  off 
his  D.A.Q.M.G.  breeches  and  help  me.  Tertius 
volunteered  like  a  shot,  and  we  settled  it  with  the 
authorities,  and  out  we  went — forty  Pathans,  Ter- 
tius, and  me,  looking  up  the  road-parties.  Mac- 
namara's — 'member  old  Mac,  the  Sapper,  who  played 
the  fiddle  so  damnably  at  Umballa  ? — Mac's  party 
was  the  last  but  one.  The  last  was  Stalky 's.  He 
was  at  the  head  of  the  road  with  some  of  his  pet 
Sikhs.  Mac  said  he  believed  he  was  all  right." 

"Stalky  is  a  Sikh,"  said  Tertius.  "He  takes 
his  men  to  pray  at  the  Durbar  Sahib  at  Amritzar, 
regularly  as  clockwork,  when  he  can." 

"  Don't  interrupt,  Tertius.  It  was  about  forty 
miles  beyond  Mac's  before  I  found  him;  and  my 
men  pointed  out  gently,  but  firmly,  that  the  country 
was  risin'.  What  kind  o'  country,  Beetle?  Well, 
/'m  no  word-painter,  thank  goodness,  but  you  might 
[288] 


SLAVES    OF   THE   LAMP. 

call  it  a  hellish  country !  When  we  weren't  up  to 
our  necks  in  snow,  we  were  rolling  down  the  khud. 
The  well-disposed  inhabitants,  who  were  to  supply 
labor  for  the  road-making  (don't  forget  that,  Pussy 
dear),  sat  behind  rocks  and  took  pot-shots  at  us. 
'Old,  old  story  !  We  all  legged  it  in  search  of 
Stalky.  I  had  a  feeling  that  he'd  be  in  good  cover, 
and  about  dusk  we  found  him  and  his  road-party,  as 
snug  as  a  bug  in  a  rug,  in  an  old  Malot  stone  fort, 
with  a  watch-tower  at  one  corner.  It  overhung 
the  road  they  had  blasted  out  of  the  cliff  fifty 
feet  below ;  and  under  the  road  things  went  down 
pretty  sheer,  for  five  or  six  hundred  feet,  into  a 
gorge  about  half  a  mile  wide  and  two  or  three  miles 
long.  There  were  chaps  on  the  other  side  of  the 
gorge  scientifically  gettin'  our  range.  So  I  ham- 
mered on  the  gate  and  nipped  in,  and  tripped  over 
Stalky  in  a  greasy,  bloody  old  poshteen,  squatting 
on  the  ground,  eating  with  his  men.  I'd  only  seen 
him  for  half  a  minute  about  three  months  before, 
but  I  might  have  met  him  yesterday.  He  waved 
his  hand  all  sereno. 

"'Hullo,  Aladdin!  Hullo,  Emperor!'  he  said. 
'  You're  just  in  time  for  the  performance.' 

"  I  saw  his  Sikhs  looked  a  bit  battered.  '  Where's 
your  command  ?  Where's  your  subaltern?  '  I  said. 

"  '  Here — all  there  is  of  it,'  said  Stalky.  '  If  you 
want  young  Everett,  he's  dead,  and  his  body's  in 
[289] 


STALKY   &    CO. 

the  watch-tower.  They  rushed  our  road-party  last 
week,  and  got  him  and  seven  men.  We've  been 
besieged  for  five  days.  I  suppose  they  let  you 
through  to  make  sure  of  you.  The  whole  country's 
up.  'Strikes  me  you've  walked  into  a  first-class 
trap. '  He  grinned,  but  neither  Tertius  nor  I  could 
see  where  the  deuce  the  fun  was.  We  hadn't  any 
grub  for  our  men,  and  Stalky  had  only  four  days' 
whack  for  his.  That  came  of  dependin'  upon  your 
asinine  Politicals,  Pussy  dear,  who  told  us  that  the 
inhabitants  were  friendly. 

"  To  make  us  quite  comfy,  Stalky  took  us  up  to 
the  watch-tower  to  see  poor  Everett's  body,  lyin' 
in  a  foot  o'  drifted  snow.  It  looked  like  a  girl  of 
fifteen — not  a  hair  on  the  little  fellow's  face.  He'd 
been  shot  through  the  temple,  but  the  Malots  had 
left  their  mark  on  him.  Stalky  unbuttoned  the 
tunic,  and  showed  it  to  us — a  rummy  sickle-shaped 
cut  on  the  chest.  'Member  the  snow  all  white 
on  his  eyebrows,  Tertius?  'Member  when  Stalky 
moved  the  lamp  and  it  looked  as  if  he  was  alive  ?  ' ' 

"  Ye-es,"  said  Tertius,  with  a  shudder.  "  'Mem- 
ber the  beastly  look  on  Stalky's  face,  though,  with 
his  nostrils  all  blown  out,  same  as  he  used  to  look 
when  he  "was  bullyin'  a  fag?  That  was  a  lovely 
evening. ' ' 

"  We  held  a  council  of  war  up  there  over  Everett's 
body.  Stalky  said  the  Maldts  and  Khye-Kheens 

[290] 


SLAVES    OF   THE   LAMP. 

were  up  together;  havin'  sunk  their  blood  feuds  to 
settle  us.  The  chaps  we'd  seen  across  the  gorge 
were  Khye-Kheens.  It  was  about  half  a  mile  from 
them  to  us  as  a  bullet  flies,  and  they'd  made  a  line 
of  sungars  under  the  brow  of  the  hill  to  sleep  in  and 
starve  us  out.  The  Malots,  he  said,  were  in  front 
of  us  promiscuous.  There  wasn't  good  cover  behind 
the  fort,  or  they'd  have  been  there,  too.  Stalky 
didn't  mind  the  Malots  half  as  much  as  he  did  the 
Khye-Kheens.  He  said  the  Malots  were  treacher- 
ous curs.  "What  I  couldn't  understand  was,  why  in 
the  world  the  two  gangs  didn't  join  in  and  rush  us. 
There  must  have  been  at  least  five  hundred  of  'em. 
Stalky  said  they  didn't  trust  each  other  very  well, 
because  they  were  ancestral  enemies  when  they  were 
at  home  ;  and  the  only  time  they'd  tried  a  rush  he'd 
hove  a  couple  of  blasting-charges  among  'em,  and 
that  had  sickened  'ein  a  bit. 

"  It  was  dark  by  the  time  we  finished,  and  Stalky, 
always  sereuo,  said:  'You  command  now.  I  don't 
suppose  you  mind  my  taking  any  action  I  may  con- 
sider necessary  to  reprovision  the  fort  ? '  I  said, 
'  Of  course  not,'  and  then  the  lamp  blew  out.  So 
Tertius  and  I  had  to  climb  down  the  tower  steps 
(we  didn't  want  to  stay  with  Everett)  and  got  back 
to  our  men.  Stalky  had  gone  off — to  count  the 
stores,  I  supposed.  Anyhow,  Tertius  and  I  sat  up 
in  case  of  a  rush  (they  were  plugging  at  us  pretty 
[291] 


STALKY   &   CO. 

generally,  you  know),  relieving  each  other  till  the 
mornin'. 

"  Mornin'  came.  No  Stalky.  Not  a  sign  of  him. 
I  took  counsel  with  his  senior  native  officer — a 
grand,  white-whiskered  old  chap — Button  Singh, 
from  Jullunder-way.  He  only  grinned,  and  said  it 
was  all  right.  Stalky  had  been  out  of  the  fort  twice 
before,  somewhere  or  other,  accordin'  to  him.  He 
said  Stalky  'ud  come  back  unchipped,  and  gave  me 
to  understand  that  Stalky  was  an  invulnerable  Guru 
of  sorts.  All  the  same,  I  put  the  whole  command 
on  half  rations,  and  set  'em  to  pickin'  out  loopholes. 

"  About  noon  there  was  no  end  of  a  snow-storm, 
and  the  enemy  stopped  firing.  "We  replied  gin- 
gerly, because  we  were  awfully  short  of  ammunition. 
Don't  suppose  we  fired  five  shots  an  hour,  but  we 
generally  got  our  man.  Well,  while  I  was  talking 
with  Rutton  Singh  I  saw  Stalky  coming  down  from 
the  watch-tower,  rather  puffy  about  the  eyes,  his 
poshteen  coated  with  claret-colored  ice. 

"  '  No  trustin'  these  snow-storms,'  he  said.  c  Nip 
out  quick  and  snaffle  what  you  can  get.  There's  a 
certain  amount  of  friction  between  the  Khye-Kheens 
and  the  Malots  just  now. ' 

"  I  turned  Tertius  out  with  twenty  Pathans,  and 

they  bucked  about  in   the  snow  for  a  bit  till  they 

came  on  to  a  sort  of  camp  about  eight  hundred  yards 

away,  with  only  a  few  men  in  charge  and  half  a 

[292] 


SLAVES    OF   THE   LAMP. 

dozen  sheep  by  the  fire.  They  finished  off  the  men, 
and  snaffled  the  sheep  and  as  much  grain  as  they 
could  carry,  and  came  back.  No  one  fired  a  shot 
at  'em.  There  didn't  seem  to  be  anybody  about, 
but  the  snow  was  falling  pretty  thick. 

"  '  That's  good  enough,'  said  Stalky  when  we  got 
dinner  ready  and  he  was  chewin'  mutton-kababs  off 
a  cleanin'  rod.  '  There's  no  sense  riskin'  men. 
They're  holding  a  pow-wow  between  the  Khye- 
Kheens  and  the  Maldts  at  the  head  of  the  gorge.  I 
don't  think  these  so-called  coalitions  are  much  good.' 

"Do  you  know  what  that  maniac  had  done? 
Tertius  and  I  shook  it  out  of  him  by  instalments. 
There  was  an  underground  granary  cellar-room 
below  the  watch-tower,  and  in  blasting  the  road 
Stalky  had  blown  a  hole  into  one  side  of  it.  Being 
no  one  else  J)ut  Stalky,  he'd  kept  the  hole  open  for 
his  own  ends;  and  laid  poor  Everett's  body  slap  over 
the  well  of  the  stairs  that  led  down  to  it  from  the 
watch-tower.  He'd  had  to  move  and  replace  the 
corpse  every  time  he  used  the  passage.  The  Sikhs 
wouldn't  go  near  the  place,  of  course.  Well,  he'd 
got  out  of  this  hole,  and  dropped  on  to  the  road. 
Then,  in  the  night  and  a  howling  snow-storm,  he'd 
dropped  over  the  edge  of  the  khud,  made  his  way 
down  to  the  bottom  of  the  gorge,  forded  the  nullah, 
which  was  half  frozen,  climbed  up  on  the  other  side 
along  a  track  he'd  discovered,  and  come  out  on  the 
[293] 


STALKY    &    CO. 

right  flank  of  the  Khye-Kheens.  He  had  then— » 
listen  to  this! — crossed  over  a  ridge  that  paralleled 
their  rear,  walked  half  a  mile  behind  that,  and  come 
out  on  the  left  of  their  line  where  the  gorge  gets 
shallow  and  where  there  was  a  regular  track  be- 
tween the  Malot  and  the  Khye-Kheen  camps.  That 
was  about  two  in  the  morning,  and,  as  it  turned 
out,  a  man  spotted  him — a  Khye-Kheen.  So  Stalky 
abolished  him  quietly,  and  left  him — with  the  Malot 
mark  on  his  chest,  same  as  Everett  had. 

" '  I  was  just  as  economical  as  I  could  be,' 
Stalky  said  to  us.  '  If  he'd  shouted  I  should  have 
been  slain.  I'd  never  had  to  do  that  kind  of  thing 
but  once  before,  and  that  was  the  first  time  I  tried 
that  path.  It's  perfectly  practicable  for  infantry, 
you  know. ' 

"  '  What  about  your  first  man  ?  '  I  said. 

"  '  Oh,  that  was  the  night  after  they  killed  Ever- 
ett, and  I  went  out  lookin'  for  a  line  of  retreat  for 
my  men.  A  man  found  me.  I  abolished  him — 
privatim — scragged  him.  But  on  thinkin'  it  over 
it  occurred  to  me  that  if  I  could  find  the  body  (I'd 
hove  it  down  some  rocks)  I  might  decorate  it  with 
the  Malot  mark  and  leave  it  to  the  Khye-Kheens  to 
draw  inferences.  So  I  went  out  again  the  next  night 
and  did.  The  Khye-Kheens  are  shocked  at  the 
Malots  perpetratin'  these  two  dastardly  outrages 
after  they'd  sworn  to  sink  all  blood  feuds.  I  lay 
[294] 


SLAVES    OF   THE   LAMP. 

up  behind  their  sungars  early  this  morning  and 
watched  'era.  They  all  went  to  confer  about  it  at 
the  head  of  the  gorge.  Awf'ly  annoyed  they  are. 
Don't  wonder. '  You  know  the  way  Stalky  drops 
out  his  words,  one  by  one." 

"My  God!  "  said  the  Infant,  explosively,  as  the 
full  depth  of  the  strategy  dawned  on  him. 

"Dear-r  man!"  said  McTurk,  purring  raptur- 
ously. 

"Stalky  stalked,"  said  Tertius.  "That's  all 
there  is  to  it." 

"No,  he  didn't,"  said  Dick  Four.  "  Don't  you 
remember  how  he  insisted  that  he  had  only  applied 
his  luck  ?  Don't  you  remember  how  Rutton  Singh 
grabbed  his  boots  and  grovelled  in  the  snow,  and 
how  our  men  shouted  ?  " 

"None  of  our  Pathans  believed  that  was  luck," 
said  Tertius.  "  They  swore  Stalky  ought  to  have 
been  born  a  Pathan,  and — 'member  we  nearly  had 
a  row  in  the  fort  when  Rutton  Singh  said  Stalky 
was  a  Pathan  ?  Gad,  how  furious  the  old  chap  was 
with  my  Jemadar!  But  Stalky  just  waggled  his 
linger  and  they  shut  up. 

"  Old  Rutton  Singh's  sword  was  half  out,  though, 
and  he  swore  he'd  cremate  every  Khye-Kheen  and 
Malot  he  killed.  That  made  the  Jemadar  pretty 
wild,  because  he  didn't  mind  fighting  against  his 
own  creed,  but  he  wasn't  going  to  crab  a  fellow 
2  [  295  ] 


STALKY   &    CO. 

Mussulman's  chances  of  Paradise.  Then  Stalky 
jabbered  Pushtu  and  Punjabi  in  alternate  streaks. 
Where  the  deuce  did  he  pick  up  his  Pushtu  from, 
Beetle?" 

"  Never  mind  his  language,  Dick, "  said  I.  "  Give 
us  the  gist  of  it." 

"I  flatter  myself  I  can  address  the  wily  Pathan 
on  occasion,  but,  hang  it  all,  I  can't  make  puns  in 
Pushtu,  or  top  off  my  arguments  with  a  smutty 
story,  as  he  did.  He  played  on  those  two  old  dogs 
o'  war  like  a — like  a  concertina.  Stalky  said — and 
the  other  two  backed  up  his  knowledge  of  Oriental 
nature — that  the  Khye-Kheens  and  the  Malots  be- 
tween 'em  would  organize  a  combined  attack  on  us 
that  night,  as  a  proof  of  good  faith.  They  wouldn't 
drive  it  home,  though,  because  neither  side  would 
trust  the  other  on  account,  as  Rutton  Singh  put  it, 
of  the  little  accidents.  Stalky's  notion  was  to  crawl 
out  at  dusk  with  his  Sikhs,  manoeuvre  'em  along 
this  ungodly  goat-track  that  he'd  found,  to  the  back 
of  the  Khye-Kheen  position,  and  then  lob  in  a  few 
long  shots  at  the  Malots  when  the  attack  was  well 
on.  '  That'll  divert  their  minds  and  help  to  agitate 
'em,'  he  said.  l  Then  you  chaps  can  come  out  and 
sweep  up  the  pieces,  and  we'll  rendezvous  at  the 
head  of  the  gorge.  After  that,  I  move  we  get  back 
to  Mac's  camp  and  have  something  to  eat." 

"  You  were  commandin'  ?"  the  Infant  suggested, 
[296] 


SLAVES    OF   THE   LAMP. 

"  I  was  about  three  months  senior  to  Stalky,  and 
two  months  Tertius's  senior,"  Dick  Four  replied. 
"But  we  were  all  from  the  same  old  Coll.  I 
should  say  ours  was  the  only  little  affair  on  rec- 
ord where  some  one  wasn't  jealous  of  some  one 
else." 

"  We  weren't,"  Tertius  broke  in,  "  but  there  was 
another  row  between  Gul  Sher  Khan  and  Button 
Singh.  Our  Jemadar  said — he  was  quite  right — 
that  no  Sikh  living  could  stalk  worth  a  damn ;  and 
that  Koran  Sahib  had  better  take  out  the  Pathans, 
who  understood  that  kind  of  mountain  work.  Rut- 
ton  Singh  said  that  Koran  Sahib  jolly  well  knew 
every  Pathan  was  a  born  deserter,  and  every  Sikh 
was  a  gentleman,  even  if  he  couldn't  crawl  on  his 
belly.  Stalky  struck  in  with  some  woman's  prov- 
erb or  other,  that  had  the  effect  of  doublin'  both 
men  up  with  a  grin.  He  said  the  Sikhs  and  the 
Pathans  could  settle  their  claims  on  -the  Khye- 
Kheens  and  Malots  later  on,  but  he  was  going  to 
take  his  Sikhs  along  for  this  mountain-climbing  job, 
because  Sikhs  could  shoot.  They  can,  too.  Give 
'em  a  mule-load  of  ammunition  apiece,  and  they're 
perfectly  happy." 

"And  out  he  gat,"  said  Dick  Four.     "As  soon 

as  it  was  dark,  and  he'd  had  a  bit  of  a  snooze,  him 

and  thirty  Sikhs  went  down  through  the  staircase 

in  the  tower,  every  mother's  son  of  'em  salutin* 

[297] 


STALKY    &    CO. 

little  Everett  where  It  stood  propped  up  against  the 
Avail.  The  last  I  heard  him  say  was,  'Kubbadar! 
tumbleinga ! '  *  and  they  tumbleingaed  over  the 
black  edge  of  nothing.  Close  upon  9  P.M.  the  com- 
bined attack  developed  ;  Khye-Kheens  across  the 
valley,  and  Malots  in  front  of  us,  pluggin'  at  long 
range  and  yellin'  to  each  other  to  come  along  and 
cut  our  infidel  throats.  Then  they  skirmished  up 
to  the  gate,  and  began  the  old  game  of  calling  our 
Pathans  renegades,  and  invitin'  'em  to  join  the  holy 
war.  One  of  our  men,  a  young  fellow  from  Dera 
Ismail,  jumped  on  the  wall  to  slang  'em  back,  and 
jumped  down,  blubbing  like  a  child.  He'd  been  hit 
smack  in  the  middle  of  the  hand.  'Never  saw  a  man 
yet  who  could  stand  a  hit  in  the  hand  without  weep- 
in'  bitterly.  It  tickles  up  all  the  nerves.  So  Ter- 
tius  took  his  rifle  and  smote  the  others  on  the  head 
to  keep  them  quiet  at  the  loopholes.  The  dear  chil- 
dren wanted  to  open  the  gate  and  go  in  at  'em  gen- 
erally, but  that  didn't  suit  our  book. 

"At  last,  near  midnight,  I  heard  the  wop,  wop, 
wop,  of  Stalky's  Martinis  across  the  valley,  and 
some  general  cursing  among  the  Malots,  whose  main 
body  was  hid  from  us  by  a  fold  in  the  hillside. 
Stalky  was  brownin'  'em  at  a  great  rate,  and  very 
naturally  they  turned  half  right  and  began  to  blaze 
at  their  faithless  allies,  the  Khye-Kheens — regular 

*"  Look  out;  you'll  fall  !" 

[298] 


SLAVES  OF  THE  LAMP. 

volley  firin'.  In  less  than  ten  minutes  after  Stalky 
opened  the  diversion  they  were  going  it  hammer  and 
tongs,  both  sides  the  valley.  When  we  could  see, 
the  valley  was  rather  a  mixed-up  affair.  The  Khye- 
Kheens  had  streamed  out  of  their  sungars  above  the 
gorge  to  chastise  the  Malots,  and  Stalky — I  was 
watching  him  through  my  glasses — had  slipped  in 
behind  'em.  Very  good.  The  Khye-Kheens  had 
to  leg  it  along  the  hillside  up  to  where  the  gorge 
got  shallow  and  they  could  cross  over  to  the  Malots, 
who  were  awfully  cheered  to  see  the  Khye-Kheens 
taken  in  the  rear. 

"  Then  it  occurred  to  me  to  comfort  the  Khye- 
Kheens.  So  I  turned  out  the  whole  command,  and 
we  advanced  a  la  pas  de  charge,  doublin'  up  what, 
for  the  sake  of  argument,  we'll  call  the  Malots'  left 
flank.  Even  then,  if  they'd  sunk  their  differences, 
they  could  have  eaten  us  alive;  but  they'd  been 
firin'  at  each  other  half  the  night,  and  they  went  on 
firin.'  Queerest  thing  you  ever  saw  in  your  born 
days!  As  soon  as  our  men  doubled  up  to  the  Ma- 
lots, they'd  blaze  at  the  Khye-Kheens  more  zealously 
than  ever,  to  show  they  were  on  our  side,  run  up  the 
valley  a  few  hundred  yards,  and  halt  to  fire  again. 
The  moment  Stalky  saw  our  game  he  duplicated  it 
his  side  the  gorge;  and,  by  Jove!  the  Khye-Kheens 
did  just  the  same  thing." 

"Yes,  but,"  said  Tertius,  "you've  forgot  him 
[299] 


STALKY    &    CO. 

playin'  '  Airah,  Patsy,  mind  the  baby '  on  the  bugle 
to  hurry  us  up." 

"  Did  he  ? "  roared  McTurk.  Somehow  we  all 
began  to  sing  it,  and  there  was  an  interruption. 

"  Rather,"  said  Tertius,  when  we  were  quiet.  Ko 
one  of  the  Aladdin  company  could  forget  that  tune. 
"  Yes,  he  played  '  Patsy.'  Go  on,  Dick." 

"  Finally,"  said  Dick  Four,  "  we  drove  both  mobs 
into  each  other's  arms  on  a  bit  of  level  ground  at  the 
head  of  the  valley,  and  saw  the  whole  crew  whirl 
off,  fightin'  and  stabbin'  and  swearin'  in  a  blindin^ 
snow-storm.  They  were  a  heavy,  hairy  lot,  and  we 
didn't  follow  'em. 

"  Stalky  had  captured  one  prisoner — an  old  pen- 
sioned Sepoy  of  twenty-five  years'  service,  who  pro- 
duced his  discharge — an  awf'ly  sportin'  old  card. 
He  had  been  tryin'  to  make  his  men  rush  us  early  in 
the  day.  He  was  sulky — angry  with  his  own  side 
for  their  cowardice,  and  Rutton  Singh  wanted  to 
bayonet  him — Sikhs  don't  understand  fightin'  against 
the  Government  after  you've  served  it  honestly — but 
Stalky  rescued  him,  and  froze  on  to  him  tight — with 
ulterior  motives,  I  believe.  When  we  got  back  to 
the  fort,  we  buried  young  Everett — Stalky  wouldn't 
hear  of  blowin'  up  the  place — and  bunked.  We'd 
only  lost  ten  men,  all  told." 

"  Only  ten,  out  of  seventy.  How  did  you  lose 
'em  ?  "  I  asked. 

[300] 


SLAVES    OP   THE   LAMP. 

"  Oh,  there  was  a  rush  on  the  fort  early  in  the 
night,  and  a  few  Malots  got  over  the  gate.  It  was 
rather  a  tight  thing  for  a  minute  or  two,  but  the 
recruits  took  it  beautifully.  Lucky  job  we  hadn't 
any  badly  wounded  men  to  carry,  because  we  had 
forty  miles  to  Macnamara's  camp.  By  Jove,  how 
we  legged  it !  Half  way  in,  old  Button  Singh  col- 
lapsed, so  we  slung  him  across  four  rifles  and  Stalky's 
overcoat ;  and  Stalky,  his  prisoner,  and  a  couple  of 
Sikhs  were  his  bearers.  After  that  I  went  to  sleep. 
You  can,  you  know,  on  the  march,  when  your  legs 
get  properly  numbed.  Mac  swears  we  all  marched 
into  his  camp  snoring  and  dropped  where  we  halted. 
His  men  lugged  us  into  the  tents  like  gram-bags.  I 
remember  wakin'  up  and  seeing  Stalky  asleep  with 
his  head  on  old  Button  Singh's  chest.  He  slept 
twenty-four  hours.  I  only  slept  seventeen,  but  then 
I  was  coming  down  with  dysentery." 

"  Coming  down  ?  What  rot !  He  had  it  on  him 
before  we  joined  Stalky  in  the  fort,"  said  Tertius. 

"  Well,  you  needn't  talk !  You  hove  your  sword 
at  Macnamara  and  demanded  a  drumhead  court- 
martial  every  time  you  saw  him.  The  only  thing 
that  soothed  you  was  putting  you  under  arrest  every 
half  hour.  You  were  off  your  head  for  three  days." 

"  Don't  remember  a  word  of  it,"  said  Tertius, 
placidly.  "  I  remember  my  orderly  giving  me  milk, 
though." 

[301] 


STALKY   &    CO. 

"  How  did  Stalky  come  out  ?  "  McTurk  demanded1 
puffing  hard  over  his  pipe. 

"  Stalky  ?  Like  a  serene  Brahmini  bull.  Poor  old 
Mac  was  at  his  Royal  Engineers'  wits'  end  to  know 
what  to  do.  You  see  I  was  putrid  with  dysentery, 
Tertius  was  ravin',  half  the  men  had  frost-bite,  and 
Macnamara's  orders  were  to  break  camp  and  come 
in  before  winter.  So  Stalky,  who  hadn't  turned  a 
hair,  took  half  his  supplies  to  save  him  the  bother 
o'  luggin'  'em  back  to  the  plains,  and  all  the  ammu- 
nition he  could  get  at,  and,  consilw  et  auxilio  Rutton 
Singhi,  tramped  back  to  his  fort  with  all  his  Sikhs 
and  his  precious  prisoners,  and  a  lot  of  dissolute 
hangers-on  that  he  and  the  prisoner  had  seduced 
into  service.  He  had  sixty  men  of  sorts — and  his 
brazen  cheek.  Mac  nearly  wept  with  joy  when  he 
went.  You  see  there  weren't  any  explicit  orders  to 
Stalky  to  come  in  before  the  passes  were  blocked : 
Mac  is  a  great  man  for  orders,  and  Stalky 's  a  great 
man  for  orders — when  they  suit  his  book." 

"  He  told  me  he  was  goin'  to  the  Engadine,"  said 
Tertius.  "  Sat  on  my  cot  smokin'  a  cigarette,  and 
makin'  me  laugh  till  I  cried.  Macnamara  bundled 
the  whole  lot  of  us  down  to  the  plains  next  day. 
We  were  a  walkin'  hospital." 

' '  Stalky  told  me  that  Macnamara  was  a  simple 
godsend  to  him,"  said  Dick  Four.     "I  used  to  see 
him  in  Mac's  tent  listenin'  to  Mac  playin'  the  fiddle, 
[302] 


SLAVES    OF    THE    LAMP. 

and,  between  the  pieces,  wheedlin'  Mac  out  of  picks 
and  shovels  and  dynamite  cartridges  hand-over-fist. 
"Well,  that  was  the  last  we  saw  of  Stalky.  A  week 
or  so  later  the  passes  were  shut  with  snow,  and  I 
don't  think  Stalky  wanted  to  be  found  particularly 
just  then." 

"He  didn't,"   said  the  fair  and   fat  Abanazar. 
"He  didn't.     Ho,  ho!" 

Dick  Four  threw  up  his  thin,  dry  hand  with  the 
blue  veins  at  the  back  of  it.  "  Hold  on  a  minute, 
Pussy;  I'll  let  you  in  at  the  proper  time.  I  went 
down  to  my  regiment,  and  that  spring,  five  months 
later,  I  got  off  with  a  couple  of  companies  on  detach- 
ment :  nominally  to  look  after  some  friends  of  ours 
across  the  border;  actually,  of  course,  to  recruit. 
It  was  a  bit  unfortunate,  because  an  ass  of  a  young 
Naick  carried  a  frivolous  blood-feud  he'd  inherited 
from  his  aunt  into  those  hills,  and  the  local  gentry 
wouldn't  volunteer  into  my  corps.  Of  course,  the 
Kaick  had  taken  short  leave  to  manage  the  business: 
that  was  all  regular  enough;  but  he'd  stalked  my 
pet  orderly's  uncle.  It  was  an  infernal  shame, 
because  I  knew  Harris  of  the  Ghuznees  would  be 
covering  that  ground  three  months  later,  and  he'd 
snaffle  all  the  chaps  I  had  my  eyes  on.  Everybody 
was  down  on  the  Naick,  because  they  felt  he  ought 
to  have  had  the  decency  to  postpone  his — his  disgust- 
ful amours  till  our  companies  were  full  strength. 
[303] 


STALKY   &    CO. 

"  Still  the  beast  had  a  certain  amount  of  profes- 
sional feeling  left.  He  sent  one  of  his  aunt's  clan 
by  night  to  tell  me  that,  if  I'd  take  safeguard,  he'd 
put  me  on  to  a  batch  of  beauties.  I  nipped  over  the 
border  like  a  shot,  and  about  ten  miles  the  other 
side,  in  a  nullah,  my  rapparee-in-charge  showed  me 
about  seventy  men  variously  armed,  but  standing  up 
like  a  Queen's  company.  Then  one  of  'em  stepped 
out  and  lugged  round  an  old  bugle,  just  like — who's 
the  man  ? — Bancroft,  ain't  it  ? — feeling  for  his  eye- 
glass in  a  farce,  and  played  e  Arrah,  Patsy,  mind 
the  baby.  Arrah,  Patsy,  mind ' — that  was  as  far 
as  he  could  get. 

That,  also,  was  as  far  as  Dick  Four  could  get, 
because  we  had  to  sing  the  old  song  through  twice, 
again  and  once  more,  and  subsequently,  in  order  to 
repeat  it. 

"  He  explained  that  if  I  knew  the  rest  of  the  song 
he  had  a  note  for  me  from  the  man  the  song  be- 
longed to.  Whereupon,  my  children,  I  finished  that 
old  tune  on  that  bugle,  and  this  is  what  I  got.  I 
knew  you'd  like  to  look  at  it.  Don't  grab."  (We 
were  all  struggling  for  a  sight  of  the  well-known 
unformed  handwriting.)  "  I'll  read  it  aloud. 

"  'FORT  EVERETT,  February  19. 

"'DEAR  DICK,  OR  TERTIUS  :   The  bearer  of  this  is  in 
charge  of  seventy-five  recruits,  all  pukka  devils,  but  de- 
sirous of  leading  new  lives.      They  have  been  slightly 
[304] 


SLAVES   OF   THE   LAMP. 

polished,  and  after  being  boiled  may  shape  welL  I  want 
you  to  give  thirty  of  them  to  my  adjutant,  who,  though 
God's  own  ass,  will  need  men  this  spring.  The  rest  you  can 
keep.  You  will  be  interested  to  learn  that  I  have  extended 
my  road  to  the  end  of  the  Malot  country.  All  headmen 
and  priests  concerned  in  last  September's  affair  worked  one 
month  each,  supplying  road  metal  from  their  own  houses. 
Everett's  grave  is  covered  by  a  forty-foot  mound,  which 
should  serve  well  as  a  base  for  future  triangulations.  Rut- 
ton  Singh  sends  his  best  salaams.  I  am  making  some  trea- 
ties, and  have  given  my  prisoner — who  also  sends  his 
salaams — local  rank  of  Khan  Bahadur. 

'"A.   L.    COCKRAN.' 

"  Well,  that  was  all,"  said  Dick  Four,  when  the 
roaring,  the  shouting,  the  laughter,  and,  I  think, 
the  tears,  had  subsided.  "I  chaperoned  the  gang 
across  the  border  as  quick  as  I  could.  They  were 
rather  homesick,  but  they  cheered  up  when  they 
recognized  some  of  my  chaps,  who  had  been  in  the 
Khye-Kheen  row,  and  they  made  a  rippin'  good  lot. 
It's  rather  more  than  three  hundred  miles  from 
Fort  Everett  to  where  I  picked  'em  up.  Now, 
Pussy,  tell  'em  the  latter  end  o'  Stalky  as  you 
saw  it." 

Abanazar  laughed  a  little  nervous,  misleading, 
official  laugh. 

"Oh,   it  wasn't  much.     I  was  at  Simla  in  the 
spring,  when  our  Stalky,  out  of  his  snows,  began 
corresponding  direct  with  the  Government. ' ' 
[  305  ] 


STALKY   &    CO. 

"After  the  manner  of  a  king,"  suggested  Dick 
Four. 

"  My  turn  now,  Dick.  He'd  done  a  whole  lot  of 
things  he  shouldn't  have  done,  and  constructively 
pledged  the  Government  to  all  sorts  of  action." 

"  Pledged  the  State's  ticker,  eh?  "  said  McTurk, 
with  a  nod  to  me. 

"  About  that;  but  the  embarrassin'  part  was  that 
it  was  all  so  thunderin'  convenient,  so  well  reasoned, 
don't  you  know  ?  Came  in  as  pat  as  if  he'd  had  ac- 
cess to  all  sorts  of  information — which  he  couldn't, 
of  course. ' ' 

"Pooh!"  said  Tertius,  "I  back  Stalky  against 
the  Foreign  Office  any  day." 

"  He'd  done  pretty  nearly  everything  he  could 
think  of,  except  strikin'  coins  in  his  own  image  and 
superscription,  all  under  cover  of  buildin'  this  in- 
fernal road  and  bein'  blocked  by  the  snow.  His 
report  was  simply  amazin'.  Yon  Lennaert  tore  his 
hair  over  it  at  first,  and  then  he  gasped,  '  Who  the 
dooce  is  this  unknown  "Warren  Hastings  ?  He  must 
be  slain.  He  must  be  slain  officially!  The  Yice- 
roy'll  never  stand  it.  It's  unheard  of.  He  must  be 
slain  by  his  Excellency  in  person.  Order  him  up 
here  and  pitch  in  a  stinger. '  "Well,  I  sent  him  no 
end  of  an  official  stinger,  and  I  pitched  in  an  un- 
official telegram  at  the  same  time." 

"  You!  "  This  with  amazement  from  the  Infant, 
[306] 


SLAVES    OF   THE   LAMP. 

for  Abanazar  resembled  nothing  so  much  as  a  fluffy 
Persian  cat. 

"  Yes — me,"  said  Abanazar.  "  'Twasn't  much, 
but  after  what  you've  said,  Dicky,  it  was  rather  a 
coincidence,  because  I  Avired: 

"  '  Aladdin  now  has  got  his  wife, 
Your  Emperor  is  appeased. 
I  think  you'd  better  come  to  life  : 
We  hope  you've  all  been  pleased.' 

"  Funny  how  that  old  song  came  up  in  my  head. 
That  was  fairly  non-committal  and  encouragin'. 
The  only  flaw  was  that  his  Emperor  wasn't  ap- 
peased by  very  long  chalks.  Stalky  extricated  him- 
self from  his  mountain  fastnesses  and  loafed  up  to 
Simla  at  his  leisure,  to  be  offered  up  on  the  horns  of 
the  altar. ' ' 

"  But,"  I  began,  "  surely  the  Commander-in-Chief 
is  the  proper— 

"  His  Excellency  had  an  idea  that  if  he  blew  up 
one  single  junior  captain — same  as  King  used  to 
blow  us  up — he  was  holdin'  the  reins  of  empire,  and, 
of  course,  as  long  as  he  had  that  idea,  Yon  Lennaert 
encouraged  him.  I'm  not  sure  Yon  Lennaert  didn't 
put  that  notion  into  his  head." 

"They've  changed  the  breed,  then,  since  my 
time,"  I  said. 

"  P'r'aps.  Stalky  was  sent  up  for  his  wiggin'  like 
a  bad  little  boy.  I've  reason  to  believe  that  His 
f  307] 


STALKY    &    CO. 

Excellency's  hair  stood  on  end.  He  walked  into 
Stalky  for  one  hour — Stalky  at  attention  in  the 
middle  of  the  floor,  and  (so  he  vowed)  Yon  Lennaert 
pretending  to  soothe  down  His  Excellency's  topknot 
in  dumb  show  in  the  background.  Stalky  didn't 
dare  to  look  up,  or  he'd  have  laughed. 

"  Now,  wherefore  was  Stalky  not  broken  public- 
ly?" said  the  Infant,  with  a  large  and  luminous  leer. 

"Ah,  wherefore?"  said  Abanazar.  "To  give 
him  a  chance  to  retrieve  his  blasted  career,  and  not 
to  break  his  father's  heart.  Stalky  hadn't  a  father, 
but  that  didn't  matter.  He  behaved  like  a — like 
the  Sanawar  Orphan  Asylum,  and  His  Excellency 
graciously  spared  him.  Then  he  came  round  to  my 
office  and  sat  opposite  me  for  ten  minutes,  puffing 
out  his  nostrils.  Then  he  said,  '  Pussy,  if  I  thought 
that  basket-hanger — 

"  Hah!     He  remembered  that"  said  McTurk. 

"  '  That  two-anna  basket-hanger  governed  India, 
I  swear  I'd  become  a  naturalized  Muscovite  to-mor- 
row. I'm  Sdfemme  incomprise.  This  thing's  broken 
my  heart.  It'll  take  six  months'  shootin'-leave  in 
India  to  mend  it.  Do  you  think  I  can  get  it, 
Pussy?" 

' '  He  got  it  in  about  three  minutes  and  a  half,  and 
seventeen  days  later  he  was  back  in  the  arms  of  Rut- 
ton  Singh — horrid  disgraced — with  orders  to  hand 
over  his  command,  etc.,  to.  Cathcart  MacMonnie." 
[308] 


SLAVES    OF   THE   LAMP. 

"Observe!"  said  Dick  Four.  "One  colonel  of 
the  Political  Department  in  charge  of  thirty  Sikhs, 
on  a  hilltop.  Observe,  my  children ! ' ' 

"  Naturally,  Cathcart  not  being  a  fool,  even  if  he 
is  a  Political,  let  Stalky  do  his  shooting  within 
fifteen  miles  of  Fort  Everett  for  the  next  six  months, 
and  I  always  understood  they  and  Button  Singh  and 
the  prisoner  were  as  thick  as  thieves.  Then  Stalky 
loafed  back  to  his  regiment,  I  believe.  I've  never 
seen  him  since." 

"  I  have,  though,"  said  JVIcTurk,  swelling  with 
pride. 

We  all  turned  as  one  man. 

"  It  was  at  the  beginning  of  this  hot  weather.  I 
was  in  camp  in  the  Jullunder  doab  and  stumbled 
slap  on  Stalky  in  a  Sikh  village ;  sitting  on  the  one 
chair  of  state,  with  half  the  population  grovellin' 
before  him,  a  dozen  Sikh  babies  on  his  knees,  an  old 
harridan  clappin'  him  on  the  shoulder,  and  a  gar- 
land o'  flowers  round  his  neck.  Told  me  he  was 
recruitin'.  We  dined  together  that  night,  but  he 
never  said  a  word  of  the  business  at  the  Fort.  Told 
me,  though,  that  if  I  wanted  any  supplies  I'd  better 
say  I  was  Koran  Sahib's  bhai ;  and  I  did,  and  the 
Sikhs  wouldn't  take  my  money." 

"Ah!  That  must  have  been  one  of  Rutton 
Singh's  villages,"  said  Dick  Four;  and  we  smoked 
for  some  time  in  silence. 

[309] 


STALKY   &    CO. 

said  McTurk,  casting  back  through  the 
years,  "  did  Stalky  ever  tell  you  how  Eabbits-Eggs 
came  to  rock  King  that  night?  " 

"No,"  said  Dick  Four. 

Then  McTurk  told. 

"  I  see,"  said  Dick  Four,  nodding.  "  Practically 
he  duplicated  that  trick  over  again.  There's  nobody 
like  Stalky." 

''That's  just  where  }Tou  make  the  mistake,"  I 
said.  "India's  full  of  Stalkies — Cheltenham  and 
Haileybury  and  Marlborough  chaps — that  we  don't 
know  anything  about,  and  the  surprises  will  begin 
when  there  is  really  a  big  row  on." 

"  Who  will  be  surprised  ?  "  said  Dick  Four. 

' '  The  other  side.  The  gentlemen  who  go  to  the 
front  in  first-class  carriages.  Just  imagine  Stalky 
let  loose  on  the  south  side  of  Europe  with  a  suffi- 
ciency of  Sikhs  and  a  reasonable  prospect  of  loot. 
Consider  it  quietly." 

"  There's  something  in  that,  but  you're  too  much 
of  an  optimist,  Beetle,"  said  the  Infant. 

""Well,  I've  a  right  to  be.  Ain't  I  responsible 
for  the  whole  thing?  You  needn't  laugh.  Who 
wrote  (  Aladdin  now  has  got  his  wife ' — eh  ?  " 

"  What's  that  got  to  do  Avith  it? "  said  Tertiu*. 

"  Everything."  said  I. 

"  Prove  it,"  said  the  Infant. 

And  I  have 

[310] 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 

Los  Angeles 
This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below. 

•ntnr 


315 


PIKER'S 

BOOKS 
STATIONERY 

3O2  EIGHTH  ST 
DES  MOINES 


3  1158  01020  8840 


DC  Southern  Regional  Library  Facilit 


A     000  493  466     7 


